


A Reunion of Lips

by bunnycloset



Series: Seven Levels Below [2]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 36,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnycloset/pseuds/bunnycloset
Summary: Sequel to Seven Levels Below--if you don't read that one first, this isn't going to make much sense!There were fingers digging into his shoulders, trailing down his spine, smoothing over his warm skin. He sighed and relaxed into the touch for a few minutes before he cracked an eye open. He peered over his shoulder to where he could feel the weight of Scott sitting across his thighs."You gonna join me?" Mitch patted the side of the small bed.
Relationships: Mitch Grassi & Scott Hoying, Mitch Grassi/Scott Hoying
Series: Seven Levels Below [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867069
Kudos: 17





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise: I wrote a sequel! I'm not posting this one all at once (50% because I need to finish editing it as I go yet, and 50% because I'm evil mwahahaha). Fair warning: this one is a bit darker and angstier than the first one, so if that's not your thing, kissies and I wish you luck finding another book soon! If it is your thing, strap on those seatbelts and get ready to rock and roll. I am also once again begging you to tell me what you think! Your comments and feedback mean the WORLD to me and I love you all!!!
> 
> One last thing: this is your random reminder to remember that this is all just for fun, and please respect the lives and privacy of all of these people! ❤️❤️❤️

There were fingers digging into his shoulders, trailing down his spine, smoothing over his warm skin. He sighed and relaxed into the touch for a few minutes before he cracked an eye open. He peered over his shoulder to where he could feel the weight of Scott sitting across his thighs.

“You gonna join me?” Mitch patted the side of the small bed.

Scott didn’t stop tracing his fingers across Mitch’s back. “Nah, I’m good. I went to bed  _ way _ before you did last night, remember?”

Mitch nodded into the mattress. “Well, can you blame me? Kirstie and I have only left the Capital a few times, let alone  _ Asdria _ . We wanted to look out the windows.”

Scott’s chuckle felt a lot like the gentle rumble of the train. “I really wanted to stay up and watch you.  _ Hm _ . That sounded creepy—you know what I mean.”

Mitch smiled and pushed himself over so he was facing Scott. He reached up and made grabby hands, rolling his eyes at Scott’s, “I literally have no clue what you want”, before grabbing him and pulling him down so he was laying on top of him. 

“I don’t want to squish you!”

“You won’t  _ squish _ me. I can breathe just fine.”

“Unless I…” 

Mitch smacked the hand tracing down his side towards the sensitive skin on his stomach Scott knew  _ damn well  _ not to tickle.

“I will put a shirt on.”

“Uh-uh.” Scott’s hand retreated. “You will not.”

Mitch felt Scott’s head lift slightly off his chest and he could  _ picture _ the heavy look in Scott’s eyes before he even heard the suggestion he knew was coming. 

“You know what you  _ should _ do though?”

“ _ Lemme guess. _ Take my pants off?” Mitch raised an eyebrow at the excited look he got from the man still sprawled over him. “Scott, you  _ know _ that’s a bad idea.”

“But I wanna make you feel good—”

“ _ Scott _ ,” Mitch hissed. “Just because we are behind a closed door does not mean that we are not in a public space! Kirstie’s probably taking a nap too, and her bunk is right next door!”

He could see the determination in Scott’s eyes. “Well, I’m not gonna try  _ fucking _ you right now—”

“ _ Oh my god _ , Scott—”

“—and besides, the door is locked. No one’s gonna walk in on us.”

Mitch glared down at the hopeful expression that  _ really _ did not help him try to talk himself out of it. “Just because they couldn’t walk in doesn’t mean they wouldn’t  _ hear _ us.”

“Hear  _ you _ —”

“Oh, shut  _ up _ .”

Scott propped himself up over Mitch. “Do you really not want to?”

Mitch bit his lip. “... _ Well _ —”

Scott’s eyes lit up.  _ Shit _ , there’s no way Mitch is gonna be stubborn after that. You’d think two years would be enough time to get used to how gorgeous your boyfriend is, but Mitch seems to have  _ significantly more trouble _ figuring that out with Scott than any other guy he’d ever dated. To be fair, Scott was  _ so _ much more important ( _ and pretty _ ) to Mitch than any of them had ever been. Combined. 

“Roll over, bite the pillow or something. Lemme know when you’re close and I’ll let you roll back over so we don’t have to sleep in a pile of dry cum for the rest of the trip.”

Mitch sighed and kicked off his sweatpants before rolling back over. “I  _ swear _ , don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

“What are you gonna— _ oh _ .”

There was a tongue. Tracing its way down his spine, following the same path as Scott’s fingers had a few minutes ago. The mouth moved back long enough for Scott to direct his head down and whisper, “ _ Pillow _ .”

Mitch grit his teeth and shoved a hand over his mouth, letting his other hand tangle in the sheets, refusing to drool all over the pillow Scott had pushed his head into. 

The tongue returned to his spine as warm hands dragged down his skin, making him shiver. Scott’s hands grabbed his hips and lifted them up high enough for him to slide a pillow underneath Mitch’s hips.  _ That better be Scott’s pillow _ . Scott’s hands pulled his thighs apart as his tongue reached the top of Mitch’s ass. 

A whimper involuntarily escaped Mitch’s mouth when Scott dragged the flat of his tongue over his hole. 

“ _ Shhhh _ .” Scott pinched his hip lightly. 

Yeah, Mitch was gonna struggle with the whole  _ quiet _ thing. 

He shuddered as Scott tauntingly alternated between faint licks across his entrance, firm swirls and drags against him, slowly pressing  _ in _ — _ oh God _ —and pulling back to nibble at his thighs and hips, darkening old bruises he had already left there. 

Mitch was doing his absolute best to not make any sounds. He wasn’t doing  _ great _ , but he figured his unsteady, hitched panting was fairly muffled, at least. The random squeaks and whimpers were a little harder to hide.

Mitch let out a muffled groan when he felt Scott’s finger press at his hole insistently, while his tongue ran around where his finger met. 

“Mitch, you have to—-”

“I’m  _ trying _ ,” he hissed back before Scott could even  _ think _ about stopping. 

Scott pressed forward with his finger and returned to pressing wet kisses across Mitch’s skin. Mitch managed to stay quiet for an  _ impressive _ one (1) minute until Scott pressed another finger in with the first, at which point he choked on his breath and earned himself another pinch on the hip. 

Scott’s fingers were slowly pressing in and out of Mitch, while his tongue kept moving around and eliciting random, full body shivers from him. Mitch could feel his hips trying to rock slightly with Scott’s thrusts, and the drag of Scott’s knuckles against his rim was  _ delicious _ against the counterpart of Mitch’s dick pressing into the pillow under his hips. 

Scott slowly started curling his fingers, just barely brushing against Mitch’s prostate. Mitch’s free hand twisted in the bed sheets tightly, clinging on for dear life against the coil building in his gut. 

He tried to hold out as long as he could, but Scott kept pressing just a  _ little  _ firmer at his prostate and speeding up  _ just _ enough to match Mitch’s frantic hip twitches. Mitch could feel the heat burning in his body as his eyes slid shut. He reached back quickly and tapped at Scott’s hand on his hip to warn him and squeaked as Scott immediately grabbed both of his hips and flipped him over to his back.

Mitch’s hands flew out to steady himself as he blinked dazedly up at Scott’s focused gaze. One of Scott’s hands pressed itself firmly over Mitch’s mouth while the other grabbed his cock and stroked quickly. Mitch squirmed against the relentless hold of Scott’s hands and eyes as he felt his climb reach towards the peak. 

Scott leaned down and growled in Mitch’s ear, “Come, Mitchy.” 

Mitch groaned behind Scott’s hand as the heat shot through him and his eyes rolled back.  _ Yessss _ . He could feel Scott pressing kisses to his forehead as his back arched and he shuddered at the sweet waves rolling through him. 

It took a few deep breaths before Mitch could focus his eyes again on the grin Scott was aiming at him. Scott lifted his hand from Mitch’s mouth and gently traced his lips with his fingers. 

“God, you are so beautiful. I literally cannot get enough of you.”

Mitch tugged Scott down for a brief kiss. “You’re  _ so _ sappy.”

“Can you blame me? I get to look at you all day—”

Mitch groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Stooooop. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Scott laughed. “Honey, your face is already red. You literally  _ just _ came—”

“Scott!” Mitch exasperatedly stared up at the man-child giggling next to him. Mitch continued to glare as Scott grinned his way through wiping off Mitch and his hand with some tissues. “If I didn’t love you so much…”

Scott, still smirking, leaned down to press another kiss to Mitch’s lips. “Yeah, yeah. You’d boil my toenails or something.”

“When have I  _ ever _ said that?”

Scott shrugged and passed Mitch his sweatpants from off the floor. “I dunno, but you’ve come up with some pretty weird threats before.”

Mitch shrugged. “I guess your endless creativity is rubbing off on me. Speaking of  _ rubbing off _ , do you want me to…?” He gestured towards Scott’s crotch. 

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, I’ve gotta go meet Kevin to go over security details soon.”

Mitch frowned. “Didn’t you already do that yesterday?”

Scott hesitated and dropped his eyes. “Yeah... Can never be too safe, right?”

Mitch hummed. “Is this one of those ‘I can’t tell you because that would be really illegal’ things?”

Scott winced. “Maybe. I’m  _ really _ sorry—”

“No, you don’t get to be sorry.” Mitch pushed himself up to sitting. “That’s literally your  _ job _ , honey. You know little ol’ me is just a normal civilian.”

“You’re not  _ normal old anything _ —”

Mitch cut him off with a poke. “You know what I mean.” He paused. “Although, if you’re concerned about  _ security… _ Can you at least tell me if I should be worried?”

Scott waved him off. “Everything’s fine, I promise. Nothing you need to stress about. I promise I’ll tell you if—if anything escalates.”

Mitch nodded. “Okay. I trust you.” Obviously, Scott should  _ know _ that, but Mitch still sees how he bashfully ducks his head a little. The crinkly eyes are back, along with a soft smile when he lifts his head a little. He really likes Scott’s eyes, in case he hadn’t made that clear—

“You’re staring at me again.”

Mitch jumped slightly. Oops, he may have zoned out. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Scott rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “I’m gonna go find Kevin. Come find me before dinner, I wanna eat with you.”

“Okay. Have fun with those  _ details _ .”

Scott mock-pouted before pushing himself off the bed and heading for the door. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Damn. He closed the door before Mitch could get a good view of his ass walking away. Next time.


	2. II

“There is one thing in particular that I wish to question you on, before we discuss your proposals. There has been admiration for your changes, but we still feel concern for the cause behind them. Myrosias will support your change, but we will not consider it ourselves without proper discussion. We will not compromise our laws without heavy consideration; the law is the law and it must be upheld.”

_ No shit.  _

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.”

Scott was really starting to want a break from this conference—no, this entire trip. Saenorpi is a  _ beautiful _ city and perfect for this summit—so different from the Capital back in Asdria—but the  _ extreme _ dedication to tradition and upholding the law  _ to the exact letter at all times _ here in Myrosias, no matter how nice of a country it is, is really starting to make Scott antsy for  _ anything else _ . 

“I would cite my own initiative to investigate the effects of the Senate’s laws on lower levels in the capital city, as well as the relationships I forged with a handful of citizens, to be the driving force behind such drastic reform in Asdria. Being able to see and talk to people first-hand helped me to better understand the effects of our governing on  _ people _ , rather than a number representing a population.”

“Ah, I believe I understand. You chose to familiarize yourself with the people you found represented less, and thus began acting as an unofficial representative for them in both Senate and executive functions.”

Maybe he should have had that extra coffee Mitch had offered him that morning. 

“I hadn’t considered it in those terms before, but yes. That sounds very accurate, actually. Would you be interested in pursuing a similar—”

The man sitting across from him held up a hand quickly, effectively confusing and cutting off Scott. He did his best not to glance over at his own team of people sitting on the far side of the room while the Myrosian president’s aide whispered rapidly to him. An interruption, especially such an abrupt, and frankly, a bit rude one, made Scott nervous. He didn’t look to Esther for her thoughts or to Kevin for reassurance, wanting to maintain an air of calmness in the suddenly tense room. When the president stood very quickly, Scott felt his stomach drop. 

“I’m very sorry, Your Highness, but I must call for a halt to this meeting. Security has reported a breach along the western wall of the alcázar, and protocol dictates that we must relocate to the bunker until further notice.”

He had tried to convince himself that nothing like this would happen, no matter what the rumors had threatened. He rose to his feet and glanced back at his staff already being shepherded out the door. 

_ Where was _ —oh thank God. 

Mitch popped up at his side in the frantic chaos of feet being trampled and papers being bumped onto the floor as people pushed past each other to escape the room. Another aide was trying to hurry him along after President Jose and he grabbed Mitch’s hand before he could get lost in the madness again. 

Neither of them said anything as they were ushered down a hall and a staircase behind an open wall panel ( _ woah, did the palace have those back home? _ ). Several men in dark uniforms waved them into a room behind the president and a few other people Scott recognized as various Secretaries from their High Cabinet. Scott started to pull Mitch towards one of the benches between the tall shelves lining the room, but was stopped abruptly when Mitch pulled back.

The president was pointing at Mitch. “He can’t be here. This bunker is only for people of high authority. I will have a guard escort him to the staff—”

“Mario, please. Don’t be ridiculous, you know exactly what’s going on right now, who’s at the western wall—don’t make him go walk  _ through the open halls _ —”

“I’m  _ sorry _ , Scott, really, but the law is the law, and it  _ must _ be upheld. The only people permitted here are cabinet members and foreign royalty. If he was family, it would be different.”

Mitch tried to pull his hand out of Scott, and he was mumbling something about how it was fine, he’d go fast, but Scott wouldn’t have it. He could feel the panic building in his chest at Mitch’s reluctant acceptance. No way in  _ hell _ was anyone going to make Mitch go out there.

“Mitch.” The firmness in his voice and expression kept Mitch from trying to back out the door as Scott quickly scanned the room. He spotted a coil of wire on one of the shelves sporting spare materials and stalked over to it, disregarding the confused and apprehensive stares of everyone standing around them. He managed to bend it into a crude circle as he planted himself in front of Mitch.

Well, here goes. 

Kirstie was gonna kill him.

Mitch’s jaw dropped in shock as Scott sank to one knee in front of him and held up the wire. “Marry me?”

The gasps from the stunned officials behind his back really only served to encourage him at this point. 

“You’re shitting me.”

That’s his Mitch: eloquent as always. 

“It’s not like I wasn’t planning on proposing anyways. I’ve got a better ring back home, but this one will have to do for now. I mean, if...”

“Uh, yeah.  _ Yes.  _ Yes, of course—” Mitch dragged him back up to his feet and stuck his left hand out for Scott to slide the wire on. “Why on  _ earth _ —”

Mitch could scold him for rash decision making later. Scott turned to the president again. “Can he stay now?”

Mario just stared at him for a few seconds, probably thinking the same things Mitch kept muttering under his breath at him, before sighing. “Yes, I suppose everything is now in accordance with the law.”

Scott nodded shortly and pulled Mitch over to the bench to wait the lockdown out.


	3. III

Mitch seriously couldn’t  _ believe _ Scott sometimes. He actually  _ proposed to Mitch  _ so that he wouldn’t have to go back outside the bunker. He could’ve just walked fast—Scott had said there was nothing to worry about, so the perimeter breach was probably just a wayward citizen whose dog ran off. 

Mitch couldn’t stop staring at his finger. The copper wire Scott had formed a ring out of was nowhere near the giant diamond he had fantasized about getting one day, but now that there was  _ actually _ a ring there, he literally couldn’t care less what it looked like. 

If Scott tries to take it back later when they tell them it was a false alarm or something, Mitch was gonna tease him about it for  _ years _ . He could hear the awkward conversation already. Scott was gonna tell him about how he had these big, fancy plans to make it the most  _ epic _ proposal ever and probably try to convince him with offers of blowjobs galore to let him try again. Then Mitch would pretend to consider it for a while and go back and forth on it to see Scott squirm, before inevitably agreeing to pretend it didn’t happen to save Scott from Kirstie’s wrath. (Because if Scott said that he was already planning a proposal, it means that  _ Kirstie _ was mostly planning the proposal by trying to help Scott sort through his good and bad ideas, and she was  _ not  _ going to be happy she missed it.)

Scott was leaning against one of the shelves, sitting sideways on the bench with Mitch resting with his back to Scott’s chest, wrapped up in Scott’s protective arms. They must have been down here for an hour at this point, because Mitch could feel himself starting to doze off. The quiet murmur of politicians chatting was an oddly peaceful sound. It’s weird, he knows. Mitch blames it entirely on Scott for talking to himself while he works late and Mitch is sleeping at the palace. 

He actually has to fight to open his eyes all the way when the president walks over to them. 

“Scott, sorry to disturb you, but may I speak to you in private? It’s about the perimeter breach.”

Scott slid out from behind Mitch gently. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Mitch didn’t like the sound of that. The way the president had phrased it didn’t make it sound like a false alarm, but he was still holding out hope for it being a runaway dog or a lost tourist group. The way that Scott’s face fell at whatever whispered words Mario relayed to him wasn’t reassuring either. When he sat back down next to Mitch and rubbed at his face with his hands, Mitch felt some of the anxiety he was trying to ignore spring up. 

“Is everything okay?”

Scott dropped his hands and turned towards Mitch. He didn’t like how exhausted his eyes looked. “Not… quite. I’ll explain later once we get back with the rest of the group. They’ve cleared the perimeter and they’re just doing some last sweeps of the grounds before they lift the lockdown.”

“Can I do anything?”

Scott dropped his head onto Mitch’s shoulder. “Can you just... talk for a while?”

Mitch draped his arm around Scott’s shoulders and did his best to keep their minds off of whatever just happened.


	4. IV

Something was wrong. 

Something was  _ really  _ wrong. 

Mitch was sitting between Kirstie and Esther on a small couch in the lounge car of the private train silently zooming through the skies, watching Scott pace while the last of the group found seats. 

The group in the car was both nostalgic and worrying to Mitch. Kevin was leaning against a wall opposite Matt, both of them wearing matching frowns. Mitch, Kirstie, and Esther took up the only couch, while Nicole and Avi both had their own chairs. Ben and Ryan were settling on the floor, propped against the walls of the train. The only new addition to the group was Leigh, (recently married to an exhilarated Kevin), who was perched on the edge of the couch next to Esther. It had been so long since they had all been together—but that’s exactly what had Mitch scared.

He knew Scott trusted all of these people. These were the people he had called together two years ago when Mitch had found himself locked in the palace dungeons overnight and Scott didn’t know who he could trust. Having this group of people singled out, especially now, meant something was really,  _ really _ wrong. 

Scott finally stopped his nervous pacing and turned to face them. 

“So I have some bad news.”

Somebody snorted. 

“Yeah, I know. Shocker.” Scott ran a tired hand through his hair. “What I’m about to tell you needs to be kept between the people in this room—and I don’t say that lightly. When I say  _ confidential _ , I mean my sisters haven’t even been made aware of it yet.”

Mitch saw Avi’s face fall as he leaned back in his chair. Avi looked up at Scott hesitantly and asked, “Is this about the rumors?”

Scott grimaced and nodded. Avi let out a heavy breath that sounded almost painful. “Oh, God.”

Scott crossed his arms and stared down at the floor as he continued. 

“The official reason that we’ve cut the summit short and are on our way home right now is because of a weather concern for travelling tomorrow. The unofficial and  _ real _ reason we’re leaving is because Myrosian rebels attacked the alcázar while we were in the conference, and both President Jose and myself agreed that we need to return home before anything else happens.”

There were looks of disbelief and horror thrown across the room, but Mitch couldn’t spare them a glance by looking away from Scott’s worn face. 

“I wish that was the end of the story. I don’t know what you guys have heard—the rumors have been  _ quite _ creative—but here’s the truth: Myrosias isn’t the only country under attack. There have been reports of Asdrian rebel groups forming underground for the last few months.”

Avi’s face was buried in his hands, and Mitch could see Kevin’s head hanging in defeat. Next to him, Esther also seemed to be aware of this information to some extent due to her stiff posture as she nodded along forlornly. 

“So far, all reports have been kept very quiet, but they all seem to agree on two main points. First, the Asdrian rebels seem to have allied themselves with the Myrosian rebels. They  _ are _ two separate groups, but they appear to be working together for now. Second, the Asdrian rebels have not made any violent or public advances, unlike the Myrosian rebels, so we know very little about what their actual size is, their root cause, or their goals. But that brings me to my least favorite subject.” 

Scott paused to take a deep breath, and met Mitch’s eyes for half a second before they were dropped back to the ground.

“The Duke and Duchess,  _ ahem _ , my  _ parents _ have gone missing from their mansion, along with some of the staff tending to them. I have no proof to confirm or deny anything, but I feel it would be ridiculously stupid to not assume that they are behind this, or at the very least, are involved somehow. We all know their  _ opinions _ on my rule, and quite honestly, I would be more shocked if they  _ weren’t _ working to have me overthrown.”

Mitch’s head was reeling and he could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

Kirstie was the first one to break the silence. “So, to be clear, we know that Asdria, or at least  _ you _ ,” she nodded at Scott, “are under attack from an organized rebellion that is most likely being led by your missing parents. And we know almost nothing about the rebels except that they’ve allied themselves with the violent Myrosian rebels, and prefer to work underground.”

Scott pursed his lips. “Mhm. For now, I want this information to stay confidential. Until we know more about what’s happening, I don’t want the country to fall into a panic. Chaos is not going to be our friend unless we know for sure it could be their enemy.”

Avi lifted his head from his hands. “Is that all? Do you have any plans going forward?”

Scott shifted his weight and glanced around the room. “Most of the reports are present in the outer cities right now, so the first plan is to get back to the Capital without any issues.”

Mitch felt his stomach churn. They needed to pass through  _ so many _ of the outer cities to get back home. No wonder Scott had decided they needed to move fast. If the Myrosian rebels were moving, there was no telling what Asdrian rebels might have planned knowing Scott would be forced to travel home through their territory to find safety.

“I need to call my sisters and update them on everything that’s happened,” Scott continued. “I want to wait to get a little closer to home before I call them, though. I don’t want to trust that our communication will be secure while we’re passing through outer cities. Other than that, I have spies working to gather any information they can. Once we know a bit more about them, we can start to plan how to stop them. If my parents are behind this, I intend their rebellion to end with them behind bars.”

The group dispersed slowly. Everyone seemed to be a bit dazed at the sudden knowledge Scott had shared with them, and Mitch watched as they filtered their way back out of the car and back to wherever else on the train they had been previously. When Scott was the only other one left in the car with him, Mitch pushed himself to his feet and walked over to him.

“I don’t think I like my new in-laws that much.” Scott offered a sad smile to his half-hearted joke. “I suppose I understand why you didn’t want me to leave the bunker now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner—”

Mitch shook his head. “No, you did what you were supposed to do. I suppose I  _ am _ glad that you aren’t carrying this around by yourself anymore, though.”

Scott looked like he was trying to smile, but it came out as more of a pained grimace. “See, I  _ do  _ listen to you.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Sometimes.” 

“... _ Sometimes _ .”


	5. V

Scott is asleep, somehow. Mitch, on the other hand, has been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling for the last hour or so, feeling the anxiety in his chest rise every time the train jostles him. Eventually, he’s had enough of his own tossing and turning and decides to go find somewhere else to be awake before he wakes Scott up. He tugs on some boxers and sweatpants, pulling one of Scott’s t-shirts out of his own bag (once a thief, always a thief) and slides out of their private room in the sleeping car to head for the lounge. 

He’s on the lower floor of the lounge car, about to climb the staircase to the top, when he hears a door slide open and smells just the hint of a cool, night breeze. He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and starts to turn his head towards the open door, but only one thought makes it through his head before he feels the prick on his neck. 

The train is stopped, and the door that opened is  _ to the outside _ . 

His vision fades to black before he even hits the ground. 

  
  



	6. VI

“Scott?” 

He doesn’t look up from where he’s pressed himself into the corner of the dark room. He feels the bed dip as Kirstie crawls her way over and presses herself into his side. She’s still crying. Scott can’t tell if  _ he’s _ shaking or if it’s the train, but he hasn’t cried yet. 

Esther sits on the edge of the bed. Leigh closes the door behind them. The room is too small now. 

“Honey?” Scott’s eyes flick up. Esther looks like she’s about to cry, too. “I have—I have news.”

A tear runs down her face. Kirstie’s sobbing into his shirt. The last glimmer of hope in his chest fades. 

“President Jose left a message for you. He sends his apologies—”

Scott closes his eyes. 

“They found four bodies in one of the border towns.”

Leigh is sniffling from the other side of the bed. 

“They ha—haven’t identified the bodies yet, and he said they won’t have answers til—till tomorrow.”

Esther’s voice cracks and Leigh picks up where she left off. “It might not be him, we don’t know yet. They only sa—said that the Myrosian rebels took credit.”

One tear slides down his cheek. 

Scott lowers his head into Kirstie’s hair.


	7. VII

Mitch opens his eyes slowly. 

Jesus  _ Christ _ , he has a headache. The room is dim, at least. He reached out beside him for Scott, but was met with only cool sheets. Wait,  _ where… _

It looked like an imitation of a hotel room. He’s laying on one bed with the comforter pulled over him, but still tucked fairly tight. There’s another bed to his right that looks used, but there’s no one in it. A TV is sitting across the room on a wide wooden cabinet playing—The Lion King?—quietly. There’s a desk in the corner of the room next to a large window blocked by a white curtain. To his left, there’s a shelf with a coffee maker, a microwave, and a mini fridge and a short hallway leading to two doors. The first door looks normal and is closed—he assumes it’s a bathroom.

The other door is the only thing that makes the room scream  _ not hotel _ . There’s no handle. There’s a flap in the door about where there  _ should _ be a handle, but it only looks tall enough for a book, and is maybe as wide as a hanger. 

The door to the bathroom swung open while Mitch was still staring around in shock. 

“Oh, good. I was getting worried that you weren’t going to wake up.”

The girl that walked towards him looked a couple years younger than Mitch, just in her early twenties. She looked a lot more put together than Mitch felt, wearing light jeans, a scarlet headscarf, and a yellow t-shirt over a long sleeved, dark green shirt. She grabbed a plastic water bottle and a handful of something off of the shelf next to the coffee maker and offered it to Mitch. 

“It’s not ideal, but they gave me a bottle of Advil a few weeks ago. I figured it might help with the headache. I didn’t get any when  _ I _ woke up in here, and that was  _ awful _ .”

Mitch reached out hesitantly and took the pills and the bottle of water. “Thanks.” He drained the water, quickly realizing how dry his throat was. The girl took the cup from him and set it back on the shelf before offering her hand. 

“I’m Cleo.”

“Mitch.” He glanced around again. “Um, where am I?” 

Cleo perched on the edge of his bed. “Well, I’m not sure  _ exactly _ where, but I’m gonna guess first level, somewhere in Alluvia.”

Mitch nodded. Alluvia was one of the outer cities they had to stop at on the way back to the Capital— _ oh shit _ . 

“Hey, hey—Mitch? You’re okay, there’s no one else here. It’s just the two of us—you’re fine.”

Mitch squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head into his hands. He tried to focus only on the sound of  _ Can You Feel the Love Tonight _ playing quietly on the TV and the taught pressure of the sheets over him until he could breathe again.

“There’s  _ no one _ else here?” Okay, that came out way more panicked than it needed to.  _ Where was Scott? Kirstie? Avi, Kevin, Matt, Leigh, Esther _ —

Cleo looked a little concerned. “No. Well, in  _ here _ . I couldn’t tell you about the rest of the Manor, but I’m pretty sure we’re the only captives.”

Well that wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Manor?”

“Yeah. I heard one of the guys at the door call it that the first week I was here while they were delivering stuff through the flap.” She nodded towards the door. “I’ve been here almost a month now. You’ve been out cold on the bed for about a day. I don’t know what they knocked you out with, but they  _ definitely _ didn’t need to use that much.”

The horrified look on Mitch’s face probably looked as unsettling as it felt. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Cloe raised an eyebrow. “The rebels? Who else did you think?”

Mitch dropped his head into his hands. 

Well _ , fuck. _

“Can I ask how you got caught?” Cloe winced. “Sorry, that wasn’t as sensitive as I planned it to be. I’ve been dying for something new to happen—you can only watch Disney movies for so long before you start to lose your mind.”

Mitch groaned. “ _ Just _ Disney movies?”

Cleo nodded. “Sometimes it randomly changes to the news, but I think that’s just the rebels trying to convince me to break.”

“Break?” 

Cleo raised her eyebrow again. “Well, yeah. They want information from me, but I’m not gonna tell  _ them _ anything. Why else would I be a prisoner? Why are  _ you _ here?”

Mitch opened his mouth, but froze before he could answer. He ignored the suspicious stare on Cleo’s face as his mind raced. 

If he really was a prisoner of the rebels, he definitely shouldn’t announce that he’s the king’s boyfri— _ fiancé _ . He probably shouldn’t trust Cleo either, considering she could just as easily be a spy to get information from  _ him _ . Cleo was probably already trying to figure out if  _ he _ was a spy. This was gonna get complicated, wasn’t it? Ugh. 

_ He wanted Scott _ .

“...Mitch?”

“Sorry,” he jolted back to the present. “Just trying to figure out how much I should say in case they’re listening.”

Cleo nodded, but her eyes were still narrowed.

“I don’t know why I’m here, and I don’t know what they want to know from me. The last thing I remember was walking between cars on a train while stopped at the Alluvia station.” Cleo sighed and leaned back, clearly disappointed at the lack of information. 

“You’re lying.”

He shrugged. “Everything I’ve said is technically true.”

Cleo pushed herself off the bed. “Are you a loyalist?

Mitch watched her grab a container of salad out of the mini fridge. “A what?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? The loyalists are trying to stop the rebels. Why on  _ earth  _ did they grab  _ you _ ?”

Mitch shrugged. He wasn’t really planning on sharing his guess. “So are  _ you _ a loyalist then?”

Cleo nodded. “I support King Scott and,” she looked like she was choosing her words carefully, “I have done what I can to help support his reign. You can help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. They dump food and stuff through the flap every three days, so we’re getting more tomorrow.”

Mitch had to struggle out of the bedsheets with his uncooperative limbs. “Then I guess I’m a loyalist too. I sure as fuck ain’t a rebel.” He paused. “Can you explain a bit more about the whole  _ loyalists vs rebels _ thing here?”

Cleo looked thoughtful at the desk in the corner. “You’re not from around here at all?”

“No, just passing through.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “That makes a bit more sense. I was kinda wondering why you were so clueless.” She grimaced. “Sorry, again. It’s been a while since I’ve actually  _ talked _ to anyone.”

Mitch smiled weakly. “It’s fine, I get it.”

“I’m going to try to keep this as reasonably censored as possible, in case of extra ears.” He nodded along, somewhat eagerly. Cleo gestured with her fork. “I’ve heard rumors that there’s been rebel activity since the king was crowned, but I only became…  _ involved _ about a year ago. That’s about how long it’s been semi-public information.”

Huh. Guess it’s not as secret as Scott wanted it to be. 

“I suppose it really isn’t  _ that _ public,” she considered. “I guess it would be accurate to say that people are aware of the rebels, but since most people don’t know very much except that they  _ exist _ , most of the city just pretends they aren’t there. Or at least, that’s what’s happening in Alluvia. I’ve heard similar stories from other outer cities.”

Mitch poked at the cold pizza he’d grabbed. “What do  _ you _ know about them? I mean, what  _ can _ you tell me?”

“My  _ friends _ and I know that the rebels have  _ big pockets _ , and that they can be very  _ persuasive _ to certain people.”

_ Okay, so the rebels have money and pay off people, but for what? _ Mitch frowned and held up a finger so Cleo would give him a second to translate the code in his head. He needed to make sure he understood everything so he could give Scott the right information if— _ when _ he figures out how to get home.

Before he could ask Cleo to continue, the movie playing quietly on TV switched to a national news station. Cleo launched out of her chair and grabbed the remote off her bed to up the volume quickly. 

“—been hospitalized after a stroke at his home last night. The Senator’s wife assured the public that he is doing well, but did not address the rumors that he will be unable to stay in office for the rest of his term. Senator Hill’s staff thanked the public for their well-wishes on his Twitter, and promised to keep the district updated on his plans for work in recovery. They announced that he will not be present at the Senate meeting next Friday due to his injuries.”

The TV cut back to  _ The Lion King _ abruptly. 

“ _ Stroke _ .” Cleo laughed bitterly. “Sure would be a  _ shame _ if someone  _ else _ had to vote in his place in the Senate. ”

_ Ah.  _ Mitch nodded slowly. “Got it.” There were only so many Senators who Scott could get to vote in favor of the lower cities, and Mitch was slowly starting to see why the last few bills he’d proposed didn’t go over so well. “I suppose you aren’t gonna tell me much more than that? Especially about the loyalists?”

“Nope.”


	8. VIII

Mitch was laying face down on the floor, listening to The Little Mermaid  _ again _ . 

“I hate this movie.”

“Give it a few more weeks and you might start memorizing it, too.”

Mitch groaned into the carpet, ignoring the laughing from Cleo sitting at the door. They had been taking turns for the last eleven days listening at the flap. Surprisingly, they’d actually been able to hear a couple things from people walking past. 

They figured their room was in a side wing of the Manor, so some of the staff took breaks near them. Which meant they got to hear some gossip, occasionally. Most of what they heard was just chatter about “Nancy burned the stew  _ so bad _ I literally almost threw up” or “Well, I’m  _ sorry _ that I said no, but I don’t want to date a guy who thinks salad is  _ fancy dining _ ”. 

But  _ sometimes _ they heard stuff like, “Did you see the new posters? I’ll be honest, I didn’t even read them—I figured they’d just be more ‘bring back the trusted leaders’ shit—but just  _ look  _ at the outlines! Sophia did them by hand and they look  _ just _ like him!”. 

Mitch’s personal favorite had been, “Bruce said the king looked exhausted when he got back, but I bet he didn’t even see him and just made it up ‘cause he didn’t like that I called King Scott a hot daddy. Regardless of political opinions, that dude’s got  _ arms _ .”

He’d been doing his best  _ not _ to think about Scott, or Kirstie, or anyone else back home—other than brainstorming random elaborate ways to escape and get back to the Capital, of course—but hearing that Scott was okay ( _ somewhat _ okay) was reassuring. 

To fill the time, he and Cleo had been doing their best to work together without telling each other too much about themselves, which was both entertaining and  _ very _ confusing. 

Mitch knew that Cleo had been majoring in psychology at Alluvia University and had heard many censored stories about her friends and life on campus. Cleo had learned that he grew up on the seventh level in the Capital and had worked at a design studio for a few years. He’d shied away from his current line of work and so had she, so they wouldn’t accidentally say something they  _ really _ shouldn’t say. 

Cleo had noticed the wire wrapped around Mitch’s finger, but he had outright refused to talk about it, so she had left it alone after that. He could feel the curiosity oozing from her sometimes, though. As much as he would love to talk about Scott until he lost his voice, it was easier to just keep his mouth shut. It made the ache in his chest a little more manageable.

They’d had their fair share of awkward crying interactions when one or both of them got overwhelmed, too, which did  _ wonders _ for fast bonding. Usually, they’d end up talking too long about  _ when they get out _ and they’d end up sniffling and rubbing at their eyes. Cleo would jump up and announce, “I’m gonna go cry in the shower for an unhealthy amount of time, now,” and Mitch would grab the tissue box and sit himself in the desk and stare longingly out the window at the edge of the grassy property and the line of trees that marked a park and  _ freedom _ until he got his emotions under control again. 

Mitch lifted his head from the carpet when he could hear the credits start on the TV and sighed in relief. It was his turn to take the door while Cleo got to take a break. 

Mitch brought a pillow with him to sit on while Cleo turned down the TV. “I’ll turn it back up when I’m done praying.”

Mitch gave her a thumbs up and tried to get comfortable against the door. She had told him the first night about how she didn’t typically practice that much, but she had started praying again since she was captured. Her exact wording had made him laugh. “It’s not like I have much else to do. But there’s  _ no fucking way _ I’m gonna fast in here.” It kinda made Mitch wish that he practiced  _ anything _ that would give him something to do—or believe in. He could always try the meditation she had recommended to try to make his anxiety chill out, though.

He focused on listening to the hallway as he absent-mindedly twisted his wire ring, but didn’t hear anything other than shuffling footsteps walk past at one point. It wasn’t until the last few notes of  _ Let It Go _ faded that he hissed, “ _ Cleo!” _ , and beckoned her away from her tofu on her bed. 

She pressed her ear against the door next to him as they listened to the two men mutter to each other from down the hall. 

“—coming  _ here _ ?”

“Yeah. Nancy’s been moved to the cleaning staff for now, thank _God_.”  
“I thought they weren’t supposed to leave the Manor in Presque, though? Isn’t that like, the entire _point_ of them hiding from the king? _Staying_ in hiding?”

“All I know is they wanted to be closer to the border. I figure they can do what they want; I’m not planning to tell the Duke to go home.”

“Well, I’m not  _ either _ , I’m just  _ saying _ . Whatever, I just hope that Shelly orders more of those fancy towels before they get here.”

“ _ You  _ were the one that took those?”

“Oh, please. Like, everyone  _ except _ you took one. I bet if she ordered them soon and they  _ disappeared  _ again, she’d have time to order a replacement set before they got here...”

“Well, a lot can happen in two weeks.”

“True. Speaking of Shelly, did you see her story…”

The voices faded away as the men left, leaving Mitch and Cleo staring at each other with wide eyes. They scrambled back from the door and over to the desk, where Cleo cranked up the volume of the TV to hide their whispering. 

“ _ Oh my god _ .” Mitch hadn’t seen Cleo this excited before. 

“ _ Shhhh _ .”

“I love this movie!” Cleo announced loudly, then grabbed Mitch and whispered in his ear. “We have to get out of here. We gotta tell the others about this!”

Mitch nodded to her and answered loudly. “I know! Hans is such an underrated character!” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Literally,  _ how? _ ”

Cleo rubbed her temples. “I don’t know about that.”

“Sleep on it?”

She hissed, “What do you  _ think _ I’ve been doing?!”


	9. IX

He could hear whispering at the door. 

“He  _ needs _ to sleep. When was the last time he took a break?”

“Uh, the train. Two weeks ago. Did he eat dinner?”

“I brought him some soup, but I don’t know if he ate it. He hasn’t left the office yet.”

“I checked on him last time; you go now. See if you can convince him to go to bed.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

The whispers stopped, probably for a hug before Esther left, Scott reasoned. He blinked down at the folders spread out in front of him. 

A knock sounded at the door and it creaked open. Scott didn’t look up. 

“How you doing, buddy?” Avi’s rumble echoed in the silent room. 

“Fine. I’m actually kind of busy—”

“Did you eat your soup?” Avi cut him off.

Scott sighed. There was no point in lying. “No.”

“Scott, you need to take care of yourself.”

“I am. I’m  _ fine _ , I promise. I just wasn’t hungry.” Scott glanced up at Avi’s sad face. 

“You know he would want—”

“ _ No _ .” Avi sighed at Scott’s sharp voice. “You don’t get to do that.”

Avi walked over to the desk. “Please, go to bed.”

Scott nodded reluctantly. “I will, I promise. I just have to finish rewriting this proposal. They already shot it down twice—”

“I know, Scott. It’s just been a slow couple of months—”

“But I  _ can’t _ give up on it. I keep getting calls and requests to meet about the budget but they  _ know  _ I can’t even do anything unless they vote to open the documents—”

“Scott, I  _ know _ .” Avi walked around the desk and pulled Scott back from where he was hunched over his papers and into a tight hug. “You can’t do everything, though. You could always call one of your sisters—”

“No. They’re staying off the grid until it’s safe.”  
Avi sighed. “I’m not gonna fight you on this right now. Just… please be careful with yourself.”

Scott nodded. “I promise I’ll go to bed when I’m done with the proposal.”

Avi paused at the door. “Good night, Scott.”

“Night, Avi.”

The door clicked shut and the room was silent again.

Scott turned back to his cursor blinking on a blank page and picked up a paper to read it again.


	10. X

Several lifetimes, aka a few days, had passed with Mitch slowly losing his mind over the absolute  _ absence  _ of  _ any _ idea. But then, Mitch had gotten a Thought. Yes, capital T,  _ Thought _ . 

He had been sitting at the window, poking at the scratches on the thick glass while Cleo was taking a turn at the door. He was  _ really _ trying to  _ not _ think about Scott and how creative and quick-thinking he was after a lifetime of navigating the Senate, and how  _ he _ probably would have figured out a way to escape already when he had paused.

What if, instead of  _ not _ thinking about Scott, he  _ did.  _ What if he thought about what  _ Scott _ would do?

Well, that opened the floodgates  _ real _ fast.

“So I have an idea. A really, really bad idea.”

They were standing in the bathroom with the shower running and the overhead fan blasting, while the TV in the main room screeched out  _ We’re All in This Together _ . 

Cleo narrowed her eyes. “...I’m listening.”

“You pretend to break, but demand that I come with you to talk. You give them fake information and I’ll look around and see if I can figure out where the exit is and grab anything useful without them noticing.”

Cleo bit her lip. “ _ Theoretically _ , it could get us a step closer to freedom, but if they saw you, or they knew the info was bull…”

“Then give them something  _ kind of  _ real. Like change names, or places, or something.”

“I want to tell you this is the stupidest idea yet, but—”

“But we’ve got nothing else.” Mitch pleaded silently with his eyes. Scott would have given in immediately, but Cleo was more stubborn than Mitch himself. 

“Fine. When?”

“No time like the present.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “Give me like, an hour to come up with something to say, then let’s go.”

“Okay. We  _ got _ this.”

An hour and a half later, Mitch regretted not knocking on wood.

He couldn’t decide if the rebels were idiots or geniuses, because they didn’t take the two to a different room to interrogate them like he had planned for. They came into  _ their  _ room. Meaning, they couldn’t try to figure out the layout of the Manor, let alone get Mitch close to anything he could swipe. Two guys came in and stood threateningly in the little hallway, trapping Mitch and Cleo by the beds so they couldn’t run for the door. 

Cleo sat up stiffly when they walked in, and grabbed Mitch’s hand. He squeezed it once and was partially relieved when she squeezed back. He didn’t really listen to what Cleo said to them, he was more focused on eyeing up the key ring on the brunet dude’s belt and doing his best to look innocent under the eyes of the ginger dude. 

Oh, would you look at that. Another bad idea. 

Mitch leaned over to Cleo and cupped his mouth away from the rebels. “Distract them when I get up.” When he leaned back, he made sure to glare at them a bunch. With a little luck, they would think he was just shit-talking them. 

He waited as long as he could make himself sit still with his anxiety about to blow his head off before he muttered, “Bathroom”, and slid past the brown-haired guy. He thought they might be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest from how tense he was. They didn’t do anything but glare at him as he slid past though, maybe because that was the exact moment Cleo burst into sobs. 

_ Oh _ ,  _ nice job, Cleo _ . Mitch clicked the door shut behind him and moved so he was pressed against the far wall. He and Cleo had tested how soundproof the door was before they started having whispered conversations in there, so he wasn’t concerned about replicating actual  _ bathroom _ noises. Instead, he focused on his next task: figuring out which key to slide off the key ring he now held in his hands. 

Okay,  _ focus _ . He held the ring carefully so the keys didn’t try to jingle in his grip. He looked down at the keys and almost groaned. Would it have been too much for Brunet Dude to label his keys? He shuffled through them quickly, but none of them looked any more useful than the others. 

His fingers paused on one key with a particularly sharp point. Oh, now _that’s_ a bad idea. He slid it off the ring and stuck it under his tongue. (The jeans he had been provided with most recently had _fake_ _pockets_. There was a _reason_ he never designed anything with fake pockets, and yet they were _still_ coming back to terrorize him.)

Now, to get the key ring back  _ on _ Brunet Dude’s belt. Reverse pickpocketing was— _ shockingly _ —not a skill that he had developed quite as much as normal pickpocketing, but thank God literally  _ one _ thing went right for him.

Neither of the rebel men showed any indication of noticing the disappearance or the reappearance of the key ring as Mitch slid past them to sit down next to Cleo again.

Mitch realized his mistake pretty fast. Cleo’s wide eyes turned to him and Mitch realized the question Ginger Dude just asked was aimed at  _ him _ . Shit shit shit shit shit—


	11. XI

“Majority votes in favor of repealing the last four amendments of the Occupational Labor and Health Act, effective immediately.”

Scott clenched his jaw and had to physically fight to keep his face blank and professional. Sitting out the rest of the Senate session was an act of automatic nods and choked murmurs to the people around him. When the doors opened, Scott was the first one out of the room. He didn’t even bother to bring his things—he lived here. He could get them later. 

He didn’t recognize where his feet were taking him through the angry haze until he was met with a cell door. He blinked around at the dark hallway where he stood alone, breathing in the musty smell of marble and dust. 

He almost laughed when he realized why he was here, staring down at the pair of handcuffs lying forgotten in the corner of the tiny cell. He could still picture Mitch sitting there, curled up in a ball pressed against the stone. How could he forget that image, when his brain forced him to relive that moment of horror every couple of nights, between the other scenes of Mitch being dragged off the train, kicking and screaming and crying out for Scott to hurry _please Scott help me_ _please_ but Scott was too slow or too far and by the time he got there he could only see the lifeless eyes staring up at him from the ditch—

Scott took a shaky breath and sat down in the hall, still staring at the spot where he could almost see Mitch. He almost wished he could go back to that day two years ago when he had literally felt his heart stop when Matt crashed into his office, panting and wide-eyed and gasping to  _ hurry, Scott _ —but no. He wouldn’t wish that day on anyone else again, especially for  _ what? _ His selfish desire to have Mitch home again? 

To pull him close and wrap him up in his arms so no one could ever even  _ think _ of trying to take him away from Scott? 

To just kiss him one more time? 


	12. XII

Cleo must have seen the panic in his eyes because she jumped to his defense. 

“I was the one who agreed to talk, not him.”

“Too bad. Who else was on that train?”

Mitch shook his head.  _ Think, Mitch.  _ He raised his fist to his mouth and feigned coughing while Cleo berated the rebels for pushing him. Meanwhile, he pushed the key into his fist while they were distracted.  _ Ew _ , but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Cleo turned to him and stage whispered, “Are you okay? I know your cough isn’t going away, do you want some water?”

He nodded and pressed the key into her hand, watching as her eyes widened just the slightest. 

“That would be great, thanks,” he rasped. 

He tried not to look at her as she grabbed him a water bottle from the mini-fridge, trying to ignore her concealing the key under the rebels’ noses. 

“Um, I’m sorry,” he turned to the rebels, trying to keep his voice a little rough to match his fake cough. “I don’t know who else was on the train. I was just trying to go home.”

“Where were you going?” Brunet Dude crossed his arms. 

Mitch’s heart was racing. “I live in the Capital, uh, fifth level.”

The rebels glanced at each other and Mitch watched uncomfortably as they had a silent conversation with their eyes, hoping that they didn’t catch his slip up when he lied. (He and Kirstie shared an apartment on the third level now, but he wasn’t about to  _ tell _ them that.) Cleo returned to the bed and sat next to him again, but only passed him the water and looked away. Mitch noted briefly that her hands were empty. 

“Stand up.”

“What?” Cleo tried to squirm out of Ginger Dude’s grasp while Brunet Dude swung the fridge door open before grabbing Mitch and pulling him to standing, too. 

Mitch felt his heart rate speed up even more against his shallow breathing as hands started patting him down.  _ He  _ didn’t have anything on him, but if Cleo had the key yet—

Cleo seemed to be having a bit more trouble with her pat down than he was. Ginger Dude—the nasty fucker—seemed to be more interested in grabbing at her than checking her pockets. 

“ _ Stop it _ —” Cleo screeched while Mitch struggled against Brunet Dude and yelled a few choice obscenities at Ginger Dude. 

Brunet Dude surprised him though, and snapped at Ginger Dude, “Get your hands off of her hijab. I  _ will _ report you for that.”

Ginger Dude scowled at Brunet Dude, but his hands retreated from Cleo’s scarf and he stepped back. He nodded towards the hallway and Brunet Dude followed him. 

“That’s  _ it? _ Not even a  _ thank you for your cooperation _ , or anything?” Mitch called behind them as the door swung shut. He turned to Cleo and whispered, “Are you okay?”

She nodded and an evil grin spread across her face. She reached up her hand and pulled, from above her forehead in the folds of the fabric, the key. Mitch’s grin matched hers quickly. 

“ _ I don’t know what it’s for _ ,” he mouthed, “ _ but I have an idea _ .”

Cleo grabbed the TV remote and flipped it on, cranking up the volume of  _ I’ll Make a Man Out of You _ . “You’ve had a lot of ideas lately. What is  _ up _ with you?”

He shrugged and his right hand moved subconsciously to his ring. “I have someone I want to get back to, and I’m  _ really _ starting to lose my patience.”

Her eyes flicked down to his hand and her gaze softened. 

“Tell me about your idea.”

He looked over at the window and grinned. “How are you with heights?”


	13. XIII

“We gotta go fast,” Mitch whispered over the sound of the shower. “Like, tonight at the  _ latest _ .”

Cleo nodded. “Yeah, yeah—okay.”

“You know how to get to your safe house from here?”

“I don’t know how to from the Manor, but if we can get to the west elevator, I can find it from there.”

“Okay, then we go at sunset. Are you gonna be okay with the jump? Once the window’s out, we have to  _ run _ .”

Cleo looked very unsure, but she nodded again. “I’m gonna have to be, aren’t I?”

Mitch shrugged. “You don’t have much of a choice if we’re gonna do this.”

A few hours that felt like  _ days _ later, Mitch stood in front of the window, worming the key pinched between his fingers into a small, chiseled dent in the glass he had slowly worked on creating. 

“Exhale on the swing. Don’t hesitate, just do it  _ hard _ .” 

Cleo looked like she was shaking slightly, although Mitch couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement. She’d been stuck in this room for six weeks, four of which she’d been alone for. He himself was  _ insanely  _ terrified, but he was doing his best to at least look calm for Cleo. 

They’d been given changes of clothes through the flap a few times, but Mitch was never offered shoes. Cleo had sneakers tucked under the bed from when she’d been first kidnapped, but Mitch was aware that he had nothing on his feet but thin socks. He was tempted to pull them off so he could be less concerned about slipping, but Cleo was about to smash a window that he was standing next to. 

Cleo lifted the toilet lid (they’d been able to unscrew it and wrap it in towels to keep the key from chipping it) and looked at Mitch for the signal. Mitch nodded and she took a deep breath, then swung as hard as she could. 

It was a clean hit, punching a small hole in the glass where the key had been wedged seconds ago. Mitch grabbed the lid from her and smashed it through the hole, watching with satisfaction as the glass fractured and fell away at their feet. 

Cleo bounced on her toes and stepped over the glass to the window. She looked at Mitch with wide, terrified eyes, but all it took from him was a “ _ Go _ ” for her to push herself over the ledge and drop to the ground. She didn’t scream— _ good job _ —and she stuck her landing well. She took off towards the edge of the lawn where the Manor property met the park tree line. Mitch pulled the towel off the lid on the ground and laid it over the window ledge so he could swing himself over the gap without moving his feet around in the glass. 

He hit the ground hard, but only gave himself enough time to ensure that he hadn’t twisted an ankle or something before he was sprinting after the distant figure far in front of him. 

_ Now, to make sure she didn’t ditch him in case she still suspected he could be a spy.  _

He followed as close as he could through the dark forest, doing his best not to trip on any twigs or impale himself on any branches. She was moving a bit faster than him in her sneakers, but he had longer legs, so his pace was enough to trail her without getting lost. The adrenaline was starting to fade as he pumped his arms, and the pain in his feet from running in socks was starting to become more present. He did his best to ignore it, but by the time they found their way out of the forest, he was almost limping. 

Cleo was waiting for him in an alley once they cleared the tree line. “We have to stick to the back alleys if we want to go unnoticed.”

Mitch leaned against the wall to catch his breath. “I fucking hate running.”

Cleo snorted. “That’s a mood. You good?”

He nodded. “Close enough.”  
She took the lead weaving through the dark streets, pressing close to the sides of the tall skyscrapers, lit only by their own light as the sun sank below the distant horizon. Long shadows stretched behind the pair as they slid through the dark, doing their best to stay out of the lights of storefronts and areas with a late night bustle. 

They were just nearing the western elevator when Mitch realized with a sinking feeling their  _ next _ issue. Upper city elevators had guards stationed at them. Guards who may or may not be willing to let them past, let alone let them past and  _ not _ report them as suspicious people. 

Two  _ clearly _ under-dressed, sweaty, and adrenaline-crashing people—one of whom is shoeless—showing up after dark? They were gonna be way too noticeable to go through without needing to be concerned about the rebels finding out where they had been. 

Mitch could almost cry in relief when he finds himself proved wrong. When the western elevator is in sight, he realizes with a jolt that there  _ is no guard _ . 

“We use an automated system,” Cleo whispered to him as they rode down with a few other young adults, clearly heading for a club somewhere on the third level where they disembarked. “You fancy Capital people, and a lot of the inner cities to my knowledge, still use guards, but we don’t care quite as much here. I mean, the upper-citizens  _ care _ , they just don’t enforce it with elevator patrols or whatever. We use other methods of discrimination in the upper-city to keep the upper and lower citizens separated.” She rolled her eyes. 

Cleo led them out of the elevator and through the neon-tinted shadows of the sixth level. It was a shorter walk to the safe house than Mitch had been expecting. 

The door to the apartment swung open before they could even get to the top step. Cleo grabbed his wrist and dragged him in behind her, although Mitch was a little more wary of entering the safe house now that he could see the suspicious and threatening gazes leveled at him from the two women who opened the door. 

The shorter girl with dark skin pointed at a couch and crossed her arms as Mitch obediently sat. Cleo was whispering rapidly with the taller, lighter skinned girl in the corner, glancing over her shoulder at Mitch occasionally. The tall girl was nodding along with whatever Cleo was saying, and ducked down to give her a tight hug before Cleo turned and walked down a hallway, leaving Mitch with the two girls. 

The tall girl sat down opposite Mitch, while the shorter girl stayed standing and glared down at him threateningly. 

“Where’s Cleo going?” Mitch tried not to let the discomfort of being so obviously cornered show on his face. 

“She’s just gonna go pray. She’ll be back in a little bit.” The girl’s eyes roamed his face quickly. “I’m Hannah, that’s Kaedi. You are?”

“Mitch.” He didn’t offer his last name. It probably would have been smart to give a fake name, but Cleo already knew his first name, so it wouldn’t have lasted long. As long as he didn’t give his last name though, it was unlikely they could find much information on him. He and Scott had kept their relationship private—at least in the eyes of the media—so as to keep the public’s attention off of them. 

“Cleo said you helped her escape. You were both imprisoned in the Manor together. What can you tell us about that?” 

Kaedi cleared her throat. “The more you talk, the better.”

Mitch glanced at her biceps and nodded quickly. “I don’t know why I was grabbed, I just know that it happened while I was on a train heading home, and we were stopped at the station. I woke up in this room with Cleo, and she told me that I’d been unconscious for a day. She explained that we had been trapped in a room at a place called the Manor, which she learned from listening to people in the hallway talk while she had been there alone for a month. Sometimes we got to see clips of the news on TV, but for the most part, we had no way of talking to anyone or hearing anything from the outside world. We took turns listening at the door for about two weeks, and eventually we started trying to figure out ways to try to escape. Cleo told some of the rebels in the hall, while they were dumping food through the flap in the door, that she was ready to talk.” Hannah and Kaedi gave each other concerned looks at that point. “She planned to give information that would be  _ somewhat _ true so they’d believe it, but nothing important or private. I assume she stuck to that, but I wasn’t listening.”

“What were you doing?” Kaedi asked. 

“I slid past one of the rebels to go to the bathroom, but I grabbed his key ring off his belt and stole a key. I returned the key ring on my way back out, and they didn’t seem to notice, but then they tried to ask me questions, so I snuck the key to Cleo, and she hid it in her scarf. They asked about the train I was on, and where I was going, but that was it. They patted us down before they left, but the guy patting me down stopped the guy patting  _ Cleo _ down from pulling off her hijab, which saved our asses.”

Hannah held up her hand. “Where  _ were _ you going on the train?”

“Home.”

Kaedi stepped closer. “Home  _ where _ ?”

Mitch scooted over on the couch a little bit. “Uh, I live in the Capital. I told them fifth level, but I really live on the third level. Grew up on the seventh.”

Kaedi and Hannah looked at each other again. Mitch didn’t like the silence as they clearly exchanged silent words. He missed being able to do that with—

“So then how did you get out?” Hannah leaned back in her chair.

“We didn’t know what the key was for, but we knew it was metal and sharp, so we got it wedged into the window glass and Cleo hit it with the toilet lid wrapped in towels, and then we jumped out the window and ran through the first level to the western elevator, and then Cleo guided us here.”

Hannah nodded at Kaedi. “That lines up with what Cleo said.” 

Kaedi immediately dropped the menacing look and plopped down on the couch next to Mitch. “Great.”

Mitch sighed in relief. Yes,  _ great _ . 

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now,” Hannah sighed, “We wait for everyone to get here and we discuss what to do with what we know.”

“Which is…?”

Hannah raised her eyebrow at Mitch. “Just because  _ you _ didn’t tell me about the Duke and Duchess visiting the Manor soon doesn’t mean  _ Cleo _ didn’t.”

Well he wasn’t gonna go telling a bunch of people he didn’t know secret information just because he knew their friend and supported what he’d  _ heard _ about them.

Hannah stood up and gestured for Mitch to do the same. “We can get you some clean clothes and you can take a shower or eat something, whatever you want. We’ve probably got an hour or two.”

More waiting.  _ Delightful _ . 


	14. XIV

The night air was cool against his face. He was sitting alone in a ball on the balcony of the tower, back pressed to the wall. The door opened slightly to his right, and he saw Kirstie’s head poke out. 

“Can I join you?” she asked softly. 

He shrugged. He wasn’t going to  _ stop _ her from joining him. 

She sighed and sat down next to him. The door clicked shut behind her, and for a minute, the only sounds were their breathing and hair rustling in the slight breeze. Kirstie looked away from the stars sharply when he spoke. He wasn’t really planning on talking, but it just kind of happened. 

“This is where we sat when I confessed my feelings two years ago. He was sitting where you are now when I first told him I love him.”

Kirstie reached out and took Scott’s hand, but didn’t interrupt. 

“I guess it wasn’t really the  _ first  _ time, ‘cause he heard me when I told my parents at that brunch, but it was the first time I said it to his face.”

He looked up at the moon, a golden orb hanging amongst the clouds, and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know if I ever thanked you for pushing me to tell him.”

Kirstie shook her head and opened her mouth to argue but Scott didn’t let her.

“You can brush it off all you want, but I’ll forever be grateful for how you convinced me to tell him and quit pining.”

“I didn’t do anything. You did it all yourself.”

“I did it with him. Because of you.”

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “He would be making fun of you right now for saying that you  _ did it _ with him.”

Scott smiled. “Yeah, he would.”

“He’s out there somewhere, Scott. We just haven’t found him yet—”

“You mean none of the bodies have been his, yet.”

“ _ Scott _ .” Kirstie smacked his arm with her free hand. “Don’t  _ say _ that.”

He looked down at his bare feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“He’s a tough little bastard, you  _ know _ that. He’ll come waltzing in the front doors of the palace and right into your arms someday soon.”

“I can’t wait for ‘ _ soon _ ’, Kirstie.” Scott pulled his hand away from Kirstie and rubbed at his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this without him. I need him.”

“We all do.” Kirstie leaned back against the wall and looked back out at the city. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

“Tell me about when you told him you loved him?” Kirstie turned her head to look at him. “I’ve only ever heard the story from him.”

Scott smiled slowly, remembering Mitch’s wide eyes and shaky breathing as Scott spilled his guts to him. “Yeah—yeah, sure.” He took a deep breath, and the smile on his face actually managed to last until Kirstie started crying.


	15. XV

“I can get you into the palace.” 

A room full of wide eyes turned to him. Mitch gulped. 

The meeting had called to order less than an hour ago. Cleo and Kaedi had reached out to the group of loyalists, and now Mitch sat in the middle of 25 anxious people. Cleo had gotten a warm, tearful welcome, but Mitch had gotten nothing but questioning glares and the uneasy feeling that he was being sized up. People had gotten friendlier—a bit, at least—after Cleo explained about their imprisonment together, and now he found himself squished between Kaedi and a girl named Kaylah on the couch. Cleo was leaning on the wall, framed by Hannah on one side, and—to Mitch’s horror and surprise—Brunet Dude on the other, who was apparently some guy named Darien, a loyalist spy working to find out information from the rebels at the Manor since Cleo had gone missing.

Cleo pushed off the wall. “And how do you propose to do that?”  
Mitch chose his words carefully. “I live in the Capital, and I’ve been in the palace once or twice. I’m familiar with the area and can help you blend in.”

“And I suppose you’re just gonna  _ walk in _ ?” A guy perched on the kitchen counter snorted. 

Mitch crossed his arms. “If you try to go through with scheduling a meeting with the king, you’re gonna end up wasting your time. If you want to get the information to him  _ quickly _ , you’re gonna have to bring it straight to him,  _ immediately _ .”

“So you’re proposing that you would come with us and help us get into the palace  _ without _ getting arrested?” Kaylah sounded pretty apprehensive. 

Mitch nodded. “Honestly, I think the hardest part would be to get to the Capital without the rebels stopping us.”

“And I suppose you’re not going to tell us how you plan to  _ break into the palace? _ Let alone confront the  _ king _ ?” Darien sighed.

Mitch grinned. “Nope.”  _ Throwback to the last time he had been accused of breaking into the palace.  _ There was no way he was going to give up his chance to get back to the Capital by telling them about the guard rotations he had slowly memorized, side doors he knew were left unlocked, hallways that were unfrequented, where Scott could typically be found—

Hannah crossed her arms. “Alright, does anyone else have a different suggestion then?” 

She waited as everyone glanced around at each other, but no one spoke up. 

“Then let’s take a vote. You,” she pointed at Mitch, “don’t get a vote.” 

He leaned back against the couch and glared at her. He understood he wasn’t part of the group, but  _ hey _ . He was fairly  _ involved _ , was he not?

“All those in favor of sending a group to go _request_ _a meeting_ with the king to present him with the evidence of treasonous rebel activity and the upcoming visit from the Duke and Duchess to the Alluvian Manor?”

Twelve people in the room raised their hands, including Hannah and Kaedi.

“All those in favor of sending a group to  _ break into the palace _ to demand a meeting with the king to present him with the evidence of treasonous rebel activity and the upcoming visit from the Duke and Duchess to the Alluvian Manor?” 

Twelve people raised their hands, including Kaylah, Darien, and the guy sitting on the counter. Only one person other than Mitch hadn’t raised their hand, and all the eyes turned to Cleo as she stared Mitch down. He couldn’t quite place the look in her eye, but he held her gaze as she sighed and slowly raised her hand. 

“Okay,” Hannah nodded. “Majority votes for breaking and entering.” She turned to Mitch. “How big of a group can you get in?”

“The smaller the better. The group needs to be able to blend in with the upper-citizens enough to not draw attention on the way there, too.”

“Charlotte?” Hannah turned to a girl sitting on the floor near the door. 

“I’d say four. Mitch and Cleo for sure, in case the rebels in Alluvia come looking for them. Maybe you too, Hannah. You’ve been working on this forever; no one is more dedicated or knows more than you do.” Charlotte picked at the carpet. 

Darien raised his hand. “I could come with you. I’m familiar with the rebels, and I might be able to help you avoid them.”

Hannah considered the room for a second. “Any objections to the group?”

There was some whispering, but it seemed like everyone agreed with Charlotte’s recommendation. 

“Then we’ll leave tomorrow. The trip to the Capital from Alluvia takes about two days, but if we’re going to be careful, then let’s split it up into three days. Sammi,” Hannah turned to a person sipping a cup of coffee, “we’ll contact you when we get to the Capital. If you don’t hear from us within, let’s say five days, meet and discuss sending another group. While I’m gone,” she turned back to the room, “Sammi and Charlotte are in charge. Don’t try anything extreme. Be careful.”

This seemed to end the meeting. People started exchanging hugs and whispered conversations as they filtered out the door. Kaylah patted Mitch’s arm and whispered, “Good luck,” before she followed a group out the door. Kaedi hugged Hannah for a long time before she shook Cleo’s hand and followed Kaylah. A few minutes later, it was just Hannah, Darien, Cleo, Mitch, Sammi, and Charlotte in the room. 

They slowly started piecing together a detailed plan to get to the Capital via train starting the next day. Mitch found himself losing his struggle to keep his eyes open, and he could see Cleo doing the same. 

Sammi seemed to notice their exhaustion. “You two should go get some sleep.” They were met with nods from Hannah and Darien. “We can finish planning now and go over it with you in the morning before you leave.”

Cleo looked to Hannah before she got up, but at her nod, led Mitch down the hallway and gestured to a guest room for him before she stumbled farther down the hallway to another room. 

Mitch was so tired that he only had one thought before he fell asleep.  _ Scott was only three more days away. _


	16. XVI

Mitch had no idea how Hannah was possibly sleeping right now. Cleo was bouncing so much next to him, he was surprised her excitement hadn’t woken Hannah already. Darien seemed to be pretty quiet next to Hannah though, so maybe it was just his own excitement to get home that was keeping him on the edge of his seat like Cleo. 

The train was only half an hour from pulling into the Capital’s station. They were only  _ half an hour _ from home. Well, half an hour and however long it took to find Scott. 

The trip had been as uneventful and boring as Mitch could have possibly hoped. Darien had done his best to keep an eye out for any rebels, but hadn’t seen anyone that he could identify as a rebel looking for them, which was both relieving and anxiety-inducing as they waited for the other shoe to drop. 

It seemed like maybe they would make it to the Capital without incident though, as Mitch looked out the window at the growing speck on the horizon that was their destination through the bright colors of the sunset. 

“Mitch, we’re so  _ close _ !” Cleo whispered, poking at his arm. 

“I noticed.” He was grinning ear to ear as he absent-mindedly twisted his wire ring. 

Cleo glanced down at his hands. “Ready to be home?”

“I would say you have no idea, but I’m fairly sure that  _ I  _ have no idea compared to you.”

Cleo shrugged. “I know Alluvia isn’t safe for me right now. This is a good alternative”

“I have friends—connections—that can help you hide here in the Capital, if you want.” Mitch offered. They could figure something out. Scott would help.

Cleo tilted her head to the side and thought about it. “I don’t want to agree to anything without getting there first. How should I know if staying in the Capital is safer than anywhere else if I’ve never even been there?”

Mitch didn’t know how to reassure her that his “friends” could keep her safer than she could alone without telling her who his friends  _ are _ . She’d find out sooner or later, but not till the last second. He couldn’t risk what they might do if they found out before he was ready to lose his advantage over the loyalists. Which was also ridiculous, because  _ he _ was a loyalist too—just not one of  _ them _ , and they knew better than to blindly trust him. To them, he was just some shady Capital kid who made big promises that they probably didn’t expect him to be able to fulfill. 

“It’s up to you. Hey, are you gonna finish those chips?” Mitch pointed at the forgotten bag on her chair’s tray, ready to veer the conversation away from his  _ connections _ . 

“You can have ‘em if you want, but I couldn’t decide if they were stale or not, so…”

Mitch shrugged and stuck one of the chips in his mouth. Cleo laughed at the grimace on his face as his chewing slowed. 

“Yeah, those are stale.  _ Definitely _ stale.” 

She grabbed the bag and went to stand. “I’ll go throw them away,  _ just _ for you, lazybones.”

“Thank youuuu,” Mitch grinned. For having a friendship founded primarily on survival and secrecy, they got along pretty well. 

He watched the Capital slowly growing in the distance out the window while she walked down the car to the garbage. 

The persistent smile on his face faded when Cleo popped back up at his side, suddenly pale enough he could make out individual freckles across her nose. 

“What’s wro—”

“There was a guy staring at me,” she hissed. “I don’t know if he was just weird or if he’s one of  _ them _ .”

Mitch stood quickly and ushered her into the window seat, away from the aisle. “Here,” he dug in his bag, “put on the hoodie and cover your scarf. It’ll be harder for him to recognize you again.”

Cleo pulled the jacket on while Mitch filled Darien in from where he was peering over the back of his seat questioningly. Darien ducked back down and nudged Hannah awake while Mitch tried to arrange himself in the aisle seat so that Cleo was hidden well without displaying his own face too obviously. 

“We’re almost there,” Mitch whispered, as much to himself as it was to Cleo. “We  _ have _ to make it. We’re so  _ close _ .”

“ _ Shhhh _ .” Hannah’s whisper was easily recognizable even from behind her seat. 

Mitch’s leg bounced anxiously as the train pulled closer and into the station, and he could see Cleo biting her nails out of the corner of his eye. 

The  _ second _ the train jolted to a stop, Hannah was out of her seat and leaning over the back of it to whisper urgently to them, Darien standing behind her and scanning the car. 

“Cleo, you go with Darien. Mitch, you’re with me. We’re gonna split up and meet—Mitch, where can we meet?”

“Uh,” he racked his brain for an easily identifiable location that wouldn’t be suspicious. “There’s a Starbucks right across the street from the palace. First level, then go north as far as you can and it’ll be there.”

Darien nodded sharply and they swung their backpacks over their shoulders. Mitch was glad they packed  _ really _ light, because there was  _ no _ way they would have waited around for larger bags. 

He pressed himself close to Hannah as they followed Cleo and Darien at a distance out of the train and through the station. Mitch watched, horrified in slow motion, as a man in a long black coat trailed Cleo and Darien towards the doors. He knew the exact moment Hannah noticed the man, as she stiffened next to him and started glancing around for anyone trailing  _ them _ .

Darien glanced behind them and Mitch heard Hannah go, “ _ No, Darien! _ ”, as he made eye contact with their stalker and sped up. 

Mitch grabbed Hannah’s arm and whispered quickly. “Get close to him—you run into him and I’ll see what I can grab.”

Hannah nodded and led the way, pulling Mitch by his wrist, and started fake laughing lightly at whatever joke she was pretending he said. Mitch frantically stuck a pair of sunglasses over his eyes before they could get close enough to be recognized. 

Hannah rammed her shoulder into the guy, throwing both her and the guy off balance. “Oh my god, I am  _ so  _ sorry!” She raised her voice and added a bit of a drawl. “Are you alright? I wasn’t watching where I was going at  _ all _ —” 

The guy was clearly trying to brush off her concern and his eyes were darting over the crowd distractedly. Mitch let his hand dart over to the man’s pockets as he watched the man’s face darken as he lost Cleo and Darien in the crowd. 

“I’m  _ fine _ , lady.” He pushed her hands away and pushed past them angrily, but Mitch watched with satisfaction as he stopped to look around once he got away from them. 

Mitch pulled Hannah back into the crowd and towards the doors. “ _ Go _ ,  _ go, go _ —”

Once they were out in the bright air—such a difference from the hotel-like room, lower-city safe house, and enclosed train—Hannah pulled out her own pair of sunglasses and they slowed their pace to match the casual strolls of the upper-citizens. Mitch couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he took in the familiar skyscrapers. 

Hannah nudged his shoulder. “Happy to be home?”

“Oh my god,  _ yes _ . I don’t even live around here and it’s so relieving.” 

They did their best to make small talk as they rode an elevator up to the first level and crossed the city, but Mitch could tell they were both looking around to see if they could spot Darien and Cleo. They made it to Starbucks without incident,  _ thankfully _ , and Hannah ordered a coffee before they found seats outside the café to wait. 

“I’m going to send a note to Sammi and let them know we made it,” Hannah pulled a laptop out of her bag. Mitch nodded and pulled out the wallet he’d stowed in his jacket pocket while she typed. 

There wasn’t much in the wallet except for the dude’s ID and some cash. Mitch didn’t know what he was expecting, a business card advertising taking down the current monarch to establish a dictatorship?

Hannah looked up from her computer. “What’s that?”

He held up the ID. “Our stalker. Wanna look him up?”

She grabbed the ID and pulled up a few pages. Mitch shifted so he could see what she had found. 

“I’d say he’s a fair suspect for a rebel,” she whispered, pointing at a picture of him with a bunch of people wearing fancy, upper-city business attire. “He’s clearly friends with the Senator.”

“Which one is that?” Mitch asked. “I don’t recognize him. I assume he’s not-so-friendly?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Senator Vanderblite. Egotistical asshole from Nibian City. Extremely conservative and  _ definitely _ not a loyalist.”

“Love me some conservatives,” Mitch rolled his eyes. 

“Why are we suddenly loving conservatives?” Cleo plunked down in the chair next to Mitch with a grin. Darien sat down a bit gentler next to her. 

“Because your recent tail is apparently friends with several, and is most likely to be one of our  _ not _ -friends considering those conservative ties.” Hannah swung the computer around to show them. Mitch returned the ID to the wallet and passed it to a curious Darien, who examined it and put it in his backpack for safe-keeping. 

“ _ Goodie _ .” Cleo groaned. “I was really hoping that he just thought I was cute in an illegal, pedophilic kind of way and tried to stalk me for my number or something.” 

Mitch snorted. “Is it really better that you were wrong?”

“If it gets us the identity of another person we can add to the list, then… maybe?” Cleo grimaced. 

“He’s already been added.” Hannah patted her computer and stuffed it into her own backpack, turning to Mitch when she was satisfied. “So, how are we getting in?”

He swung his bag on his shoulder and stood, the rest of the group copying him. “I know a staff door that probably isn’t heavily guarded. Just walk… confidently?” 

Now, to cross his fingers that none of the guards or staff would recognize him and call him out before he could ensure his own safety by fulfilling his end of the deal and getting the loyalists in. And also to cross his fingers that none of the staff or guards  _ wouldn’t  _ recognize him and try to arrest the whole group.  _ Shit _ , this was gonna be  _ fun _ . 

Mitch led the loyalists up the steps and down the palace block’s sidewalk around the far corner, trying to do his best to look bored and comfortable in his destination. His heart was pounding in his chest as they walked past each guard staggered down the walls. He didn’t dare turn around to see if the other three were acting casual, and just hoped with all of his being that they were pulling off the whole “gossip quick before we get inside” act he could hear them doing. 

They made it to the side door Avi had shown him once after an impromptu farmer’s market run he had accompanied the chef on, and Mitch held it open for the group. 

They pulled off their sunglasses once they were inside, and Mitch could see the curiosity in their eyes. And the suspicion, but he did his best to ignore that. 

The halls were mostly empty as they hurried after Mitch’s fast pace, finding a burst of energy in the familiar building and the anticipation of  _ seeing him _ , and while Mitch saw some staff members do a double-take at him, he didn’t spot anyone he was particularly friends with. No one stopped them or tried to talk to them as Mitch led them through the maze of corridors.

He could practically hear the questions piling up in the minds of the three behind him.  _ Whatever,  _ they would get their answers soon enough. 

They passed the guest rooms and Mitch noted that there were no guards watching the doors, and—yep—just as he’d hoped, when they got to Scott’s room, no one was standing watch there, either. And why would they unless Scott knew about the rebels all the way in the Capital? It was only more incentive to get their information to him  _ asap _ .

Mitch swung the door open and waved the stunned party in and over to the little lounge. Scott wasn’t in the room, but Mitch figured he’d show up sooner or later and save them the hassle of running around the palace trying to hunt him down. 

The loyalists were standing by the chairs, gaping at the room as Mitch closed the door and joined them. No one sat down in the chairs, and Mitch didn’t take the couch like he’d planned to once he saw it. 

There was a messy blanket bunched up on the couch with a pillow propped up on the edge. It had  _ clearly _ been used to sleep in for at least a few days, and Mitch raised his eyes to the bed on the far side of the room. He felt his heart sink when he saw how the pristine bed was made perfectly and looked completely untouched. 

“Where the  _ fuck _ are we?” Cleo hissed, and he snapped his head back to the confused and fairly betrayed faces in front of him.

Mitch scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, so I may have left out a few details of my story—”

“ _ You fucking think? _ ”

“—but before you get pissed,” he corrected himself, “— _ more  _ pissed, just hear me out.”

“Why should we even listen to you anymore? You  _ clearly _ didn’t trust us—” Darien had no right to look that offended and hurt.

“I know,” Mitch raised his hands guiltily. “And I probably should have, but can you blame me? I was walking blind into a group of underground operatives who have been working against a country-threatening rebellion by  _ themselves _ . I was—and frankly still am—a bit terrified of all of you. Most of the royal family didn’t even know about the rebellion until a few weeks ago, and you’ve been fighting them for  _ years _ .”

“What do you mean the  _ royal family _ —”

“Where the  _ fuck did you bring us _ —”

“I  _ knew _ we shouldn’t have listened to you—”

The yelling cut off abruptly when the door swung open.


	17. XVII

“Come on, Esther. Unlock the door.” Scott huffed. 

Esther didn’t move from where she’d planted herself in front of his office door, arms crossed, flanked by Ryan and Matt. 

“No. Go to bed. Hang out with Kirstie. Take a walk. Stop  _ working _ and take a  _ break _ .”

Scott buried his face in his hands. She wasn’t gonna back down. “But I don’t  _ want _ to—there’s so much to do—”

“Scott, you’re literally doing other peoples’ jobs,” Matt stepped forward and wrapped Scott in his arms gently, rubbing his back. “There’s nothing left for  _ you _ to do.”

“I don’t want to be alone and bored.” Scott figured he didn’t need to bother pretending they didn’t know why. “Kirstie’s working late tonight; I can’t go bother her.”

“Then I’ll go get Avi and send him up to your room. You go pick a movie and Avi will bring snacks and you will  _ try _ to take the rest of the night off.” Esther didn’t look like no was going to be an acceptable answer, so he nodded dejectedly and extracted himself from Matt’s hold to wander slowly towards his quarters. 

That didn’t actually sound too bad, though. A movie and snacks with Avi? That could be just like the old days before he met Kirstie and—and Mitch. He wouldn’t mind an evening without any responsibilities, without sitting around and hopefully glancing at every new report laid on his desk or listening to the news play with an air of desperate helplessness. Just…  _ relax _ . He can do that. He’ll figure it out. If Kirstie can figure out how to do it, then he can, too. 

He passed a group of staff members whispering excitedly in the hall. He wouldn’t mind getting his friends together soon and hanging out like that—just talking and laughing. One of the men whipped his head around and nudged the girl next to him, and suddenly the entire group was silent and trying to be subtle about their staring. He raised an eyebrow as he passed. 

He didn’t often run into people gossiping about—probably—him. Now  _ that _ was unsettling. He could ask Avi what the gossip about him was when he met him for the movie. Avi would know what’s up. He always knows the gossip. 

He could hear muffled giggles and whispering start up again quickly after he turned the corner. Guys, he’s still  _ right there _ , he’s just around the corner. A smile cracked across his face at their excitement. He missed laughing like that with Mitch and Kirstie in their new apartment’s living room. Hell, he even missed Kirstie’s old apartment.  _ He missed _ —

Ok, no. He shook his head a little as he walked up to his door. No, he was gonna have  _ one _ evening without thinking about any of that. One nice,  _ relaxing _ night. No stress, no obsessive news watching, no trying to meet the Senators’ demands, no thinking about—

“ _ Mitch _ ?”


	18. XVIII

Mitch spun around sharply on his heel. There were a solid five seconds where no one in the room breathed, when Mitch’s world shrunk down two the blue eyes staring blankly back into his own. 

He didn’t remember crossing the room, but between one heartbeat and the next, he had his face buried in Scott’s chest, arms squeezing their bodies as tight together as they could get, tears soaking into Scott’s suit shirt and similarly into Mitch’s jacket shoulder. 

There were both a million thoughts running through his head and absolutely none—just an overwhelming relief of being whole again, of being _home_ _at last_ —and Mitch couldn’t get enough of it. Of _him_.

Scott pulled back swiftly, leaving Mitch clinging to his arms for balance at the sudden movement. His hands moved from where they were gripping Mitch’s shoulders up to cup his face and Mitch could see the wild look in his eyes, still welled with tears, as he looked between Mitch’s eyes. Mitch’s hands curled into fists in Scott’s shirt.

As quickly as Scott had pulled away, he pushed in and pressed his lips to Mitch’s. A loud inhale and a surprised squeak from behind him had Mitch suddenly pulled back to the present, and he regretfully leaned back before the kiss could become anything more than a brief reunion of lips. 

“Sorry it took me so long to get home,” Mitch grinned up at Scott while Scott’s thumbs brushed the tear tracks off his face. “I took some detours and found some new friends.”

Scott shook his head. “You’re awful, you know that?” He choked out a laugh. 

Mitch nodded. “I’m really sorry to cut this short, but you need to get the gang together. We have information for you, and you’re gonna  _ love _ it.” He couldn’t help the frustrated sarcasm from slipping out. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay. Rain check on the crying—”

“ _ Oh my GOD _ —”

Mitch barely turned in time to see Avi’s face barreling towards him before he was tackled with a bear hug and almost knocked to the ground. Mitch was laughing along with Scott lightly. 

“I heard someone saying they saw you and I literally ran out of the kitchen to find out if it was true—I  _ knew _ you were still out there somewhere!” Avi was beaming and Mitch was doing his best not to start crying again. 

Then Esther popped up in the door with an, “Is Avi already— _ HOLY SHIT! _ ”, and Mitch was being tackled with another hug. 


	19. XIX

Scott was doing his best to keep his grin from tearing his face in half and get his hands to stop shaking so hard. He stepped back from the growing group hug when Avi wormed his way back into the mix and Matt’s head peering around the corner at all the yelling turned into another set of reaching arms. 

He can have his own reunion with Mitch later. Everyone else can say hi now,  _ before _ he starts sobbing inconsolably. He took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from Mitch and turned to the shocked faces of Mitch’s friends. 

“Hi,” he offered his hand to the tall lady standing closest to him. 

“Hannah, Your Highness—” 

He shook his head lightly. “Just Scott is fine.”

The young woman next to Hannah introduced herself as Cleo and the man introduced himself as Darien as he extended his hand to them as well. 

“It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” Hannah nodded.

“So I’ve been told you have information for me?” He looked between them curiously. 

“Yes, sir. We’ve been collecting information on the rebel activity in Alluvia and across the country—”

He held up his hand quickly. “Hold on—you  _ what? _ ”

Cleo and Darien exchanged a quick glance behind Hannah that he couldn’t quite read. 

Hannah looked a little confused. “We’re here representing the loyalist group in Alluvia and we have urgent information we need to share with you concerning, um, the rebels’ plans.”

Scott’s eyes went wide and he glanced back at Mitch, extracting himself from the Kaplans and Matt. 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , Mitch.” He met Mitch’s amused eyes. “You’ve really outdone yourself. Okay,” he turned back to the loyalists. “How about we relocate this to somewhere a bit more comfortable. Esther—” Esther was already pulling a phone out of her pocket, “—get Kirstie here, and call Nicole and Leigh, too. Avi, can you run and get Kevin, Ryan, and Ben, and tell them to meet us in the lounge across from the guest rooms?”

He got two thumbs up as Avi sprinted out the door and Esther put the phone to her ear and followed him. He turned to the loyalists. “Are you staying anywhere in particular?”

Cleo shook her head. “No, sir. Mitch just said he’d take care of it.”

Scott smirked. “I assume he meant  _ I _ would take care of it, then. Matt, can you get them set up in the guest rooms so they can put their stuff down before we meet? I have a feeling this might be a long meeting.”

Matt waved them out and Scott didn’t miss the glare Cleo focused at a sheepish Mitch or the exasperated roll of Hannah’s eyes at him when they passed. Mitch turned back to him when the door clicked shut behind them and the two were alone. 

“We shouldn’t wait up too long, or Avi will start telling everyone we’re fucking,” Mitch laughed and walked back over to him. 

“I thought you were dead.”

He didn’t mean for that to be the first thing out of his mouth, but he couldn’t take it back now even as he watched Mitch’s face fall. Mitch reached out and grabbed both of Scott’s hands. 

“We kept getting reports—Mario was keeping us updated—about the death tolls from the Myrosian rebels. I kept waiting for one of the bodies to be yours and, and I couldn’t—” He cut himself off and took a shaky breath as he searched Mitch’s eyes, soaking in the life behind them that he’d spent so long trying to picture. 

Mitch shook his head. “No— _ no _ , I’m fine. I promise you, Scott,” his eyes were so beautiful, “I  _ swear _ I’m fine. I’m not gonna go and die on you. I didn’t last time and I didn’t this time, and if there’s another time—and there better  _ not be _ —I’ll be fine then, too.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Watch me.” Mitch’s jaw set and Scott took in the stubborn face he just couldn’t get enough of. A smile slowly crept over his face, mirrored on Mitch’s, and he tugged him in close to press another kiss to Mitch’s head. 

“We should go now before I start crying again,” he mumbled into Mitch’s hair. 

Mitch smirked when he pulled back. “Let me just change quickly. It’s been  _ far _ too long since I’ve stolen a shirt from you, and I need to fix that.”

Scott ended up changing out of his tear-soaked suit, too. Screw professionalism, t-shirts were comfy. Besides, the people he was meeting with were his best friends and a bunch of people who just saw him cry all over his boyfriend.

When he planted himself on a small couch in the lounge to wait for everyone else, Mitch plopped himself right down next to Scott and turned into him, leaning his head on Scott’s shoulder and laying his legs across Scott’s lap. Scott knew Mitch was doing this as much for Scott’s benefit as he was his own. 

“I love you,” he whispered down at his boyfri— _ wait _ —fiancé.  _ Fiancé _ . He’d almost forgotten about that in his desperation to find Mitch. He’d avoided thinking about that last day with Mitch as much as possible and instead on  _ where how find Mitch please be alive _ . How on  _ earth _ did he forget his stupid proposal and the  _ stupid _ wire ring— _ wait the ring _ —

He reached down and grabbed Mitch’s left hand. 

“Did you think I was gonna take it off?” Mitch raised an eyebrow. Scott was hit with a wave of—of  _ something _ , he had missed him  _ so much _ . 

“No, I just…” Scott trailed off with a shrug. 

Mitch leaned back on his arm and intertwined his fingers with Scott’s. “Kinda surprised you didn’t try to take it back so you can try again on the train.”

Scott stared down at their hands. “I  _ was _ actually gonna beg for a second chance before we got home, but I think I missed my opportunity.”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ try to now.”

Scott shook his head. “Not planning on it. I missed my chance and I don’t  _ ever _ want to ask you to take it off. Although, you can have the  _ actual _ ring whenever you want. It’s in the back of my sock drawer. I figured that’s the one place in my closet you would never break into.”

Mitch laughed. “You’re right. Why would I, when I can’t steal your socks? Your feet are  _ way _ bigger than mine.”

“Well, you know what they say…” Scott grinned. 

“Oh, yeah,” Mitch wiggled his eyebrows back at him. 

“ _ Ew _ ,” Avi pretend-gagged from where he was claiming a squishy armchair. 

Scott snickered at his face, but didn’t start adding more commentary to make him squirm like he usually would as the rest of the group filtered in the door and found seats. 


	20. XX

Cleo was still glaring at him. 

Mitch was doing his best to avoid eye contact with her, but she looked like she was just  _ waiting _ for the chance to give him a piece of her mind. He tucked his head farther into Scott’s shoulder and tried to close his eyes and listen to whatever Scott and Avi were talking about while they waited. 

It was peaceful. Mitch couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease. The anxiety that had been crawling under his skin, sitting tense in his gut for weeks was just… gone. He had to actually think about relaxing his shoulders from how they tightened habitually when he tried to relax.

The damn scar on his neck didn’t even bother him, despite the weird position he had assumed to wrap around Scott. Small miracles, right?

Scott shifted underneath him and he had to lift his head for a second as the arm he was leaning on came up and around his shoulders, pulling him closer into Scott’s chest. His mouth crooked up as he thought about what Cleo’s expression must look like. Whatever. He literally couldn’t care less right now while he was tucked up against Scott, breathing in the painfully familiar scent of  _ home _ . 

He jolted  _ hard _ at the scream. 

He sat up so fast he almost launched himself off the couch as he looked around sharply for the source of the horrible sound. When his eyes landed on the woman in the doorway, he  _ did  _ launch himself off the couch at her. This time, Mitch was the one to tackle someone in a hug. 

“ _ I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it _ —”

Mitch decided he was going to need a  _ lot _ more of Kirstie’s hugs. “I missed you  _ so much _ —”

She pulled back quickly and Mitch received a sharp slap to his arm. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ go scaring me like that again! You’re at two strikes already, mister!”

Mitch laughed and dragged her over to Scott’s couch. “I’m  _ really _ sorry, Kirstie.”

The room watched in amusement as the three tried to squeeze themselves onto the small couch together. Eventually, they made it work with Mitch tucked up under Scott’s arm, and Kirstie tucked up under Mitch’s, all leaning into each other enough that some serious thought would need to go into getting up without knocking them all down to the ground. 

Once Nicole and Leigh had gotten seated like the others, Scott turned to Hannah, Cleo, and Darien. “Can you start from the beginning and explain… literally everything?”

Cleo sat forward in her seat and started to talk. 

“The first year or so after you first took office, things in Alluvia—which is where the three of us live and have been working against the rebels—were really nice. A lot of lower-city citizens, me included, were starting to apply to colleges, crime rates were going down, unemployment started going down, people were excited about all of the changes that were happening. At least, they were in the lower-city.”

Mitch watched the reactions of everyone in the room curiously. He knew most of this story, or at least vague versions of it after all of their shared time in the Manor, so he was curious to see how all of the Capital citizens were reacting to this information. 

“Those of us—and by us, I mean the group of loyalists Hannah started to put together—” Cleo gestured to Hannah sitting next to her, “—who worked or went to college in the upper-city started to notice little things. The city council started voting on changes. Budgets started to be readjusted. People lost scholarships. People were losing their jobs, they were evicted from their homes, taxes started going up, more and more people ended up getting fines and tickets for things they had never even known were punishable activities. It started so slowly, no one thought anything of it. Most people in Alluvia  _ still _ prefer to think it’s just a fluctuation in the economy, or things got too lax for a while, so people started trying to bring things back to ‘normal’.”

Scott was jotting down notes on a laptop as he listened. Mitch assumed that’s what Esther was doing on her own computer, too. Kevin was standing next to Matt and frowning, somehow looking professionally upset about Cleo’s story. Avi looked extremely focused, like he was doing his best to absorb and digest all of the information quickly. 

“I met Hannah a little over a year ago when I was at a café. I was on the phone with my mom, talking about how I had gotten notified that my scholarship was subject to changes, and I was concerned about how I would be able to continue in college if I lost it. I was lucky enough that I  _ didn’t _ lose it, but Hannah had introduced me to the group of loyalists she had started pulling together after she  _ had _ lost her scholarship a few months prior for a reason that she knew—excuse my language—was complete bullshit.”

There were a few apologetic chuckles. Kirstie seemed particularly sympathetic and Mitch saw her give Hannah a sad smile. Kirstie had never even gotten an opportunity for higher education, but the two of them both understood how it felt to have your dreams of education and your potential future ripped out from under you.

“Darien had joined the group a few weeks before me, when his friend Jake was arrested and forced to serve jail time for ‘irresponsible consumption of alcohol’ after going to a club on the third level.”

Kevin held up his hand to stop her. “Is that a law in Alluvia? I’ve never heard of an offense like that before.”

Cleo shook her head. “We have all the same laws regarding alcohol in Alluvia as you do in the Capital. We checked. He hadn’t done anything that was considered illegal by the actual,  _ written _ law. When I joined the loyalists, we were just starting to notice patterns like Jake’s arrest. Certain judges and officers would be involved in cases that we knew were forced or staged. From there, we started keeping a list of people we knew or suspected to be part of rebellious activity—aka, they were enforcing alternate laws or influencing groups, businesses, or organizations to support whatever their secret agenda was.”

Scott’s brow was furrowed and he seemed like he was frustrated, but Mitch couldn’t tell quite what he was thinking through his media face. He was in business mode now. Mitch could only barely understand the shorthand notes Scott was jotting down as he listened intently. 

“Hannah and some of the other loyalists started reaching out to friends and family in other outer cities and asking if they were noticing similar patterns, especially once we started seeing patterns in district officials and eventually, our Senators. We got a few messages back that informed us that there were similar groups in other cities, but for the most part, each group was doing their own investigations. Everyone seemed to agree that we wanted to lay low and not bring attention to the fact that the rebels were being noticed, and as long as we could just keep collecting evidence, we were content with that. It changed pretty abruptly about a month and a half ago, though.”

Now this was the part of the story that Mitch didn’t know much about. Coded metaphors and whispered conversations covered by the sound of the TV or shower had taught him about most of her history, but Cleo hadn’t shared anything that was relevant to how she had gotten kidnapped. 

“I was on the first level trying to discreetly follow someone we suspected to be part of the rebels. We knew where some of the rebels tended to gather, and I was following her to see if she interacted with them, and to see if I could learn anything new from either her or them. I was listening to them in an alleyway behind a dumpster when I heard footsteps behind me, and then I woke up in what looked like a hotel room.” 

Nicole looked almost as distraught as Hannah looked tense. Mitch felt Kirstie sit up a little straighter next to him, and Scott took a deep breath. Cleo didn’t look affected by what she was saying, just determined to tell their story as well as she could.

“The rebels had kidnapped me and locked me in a place they referred to as the Manor. They would bring me food and clothes through a flap in the door, and they kept asking me to give them information. I refused, of course, and was stuck playing the waiting game. I listened at the door and watched  _ endless _ Disney movies—basically trying not to lose my mind. About a week after I went missing, Darien started working on integrating himself into the rebels. It was a plan that we—all of the Alluvian loyalists—had discussed to try to get more information, but it wasn’t attempted until then. Mitch showed up about a month into my imprisonment.”

Scott tensed up considerably more when Mitch was mentioned. He laid a hand gently on Scott’s arm to try to calm him. Scott glanced down at him quickly, but just seemed to need to reassure himself that Mitch was still there before he could turn back and refocus.

“Mitch told me that he had been on a train on his way home to the Capital when he must have gotten grabbed at a stop. We spent about two weeks in the Manor listening at the door to see what we could hear and try to figure out how to escape. Eventually, Mitch came up with a plan to try to get out. I told the rebels that I was willing to talk, and they came into the room to listen. Darien had managed to work his way up with the rebels, and was one of the two guys sent to interrogate us. When Mitch snuck past them, he stole Darien’s key ring. I fed them bad information while Mitch stole one of the keys and returned the ring. I hid the key when they tried to make Mitch talk, and we almost got caught when the other guy interrogating us tried to pat me down. Darien and Mitch called him off, though, and later that day, Mitch and I used the key to punch a hole in the window and smash it enough so we could jump through and run. We made it to Hannah’s apartment, and we called the loyalists together to figure out a plan to bring all of our information to the king.”

Mitch could feel the eyes in the room slide over to him. He knew a lot of them already knew about his  _ shadier _ past, but  _ this _ was a bit more extreme than they usually knew he was willing to do. To be fair, it  _ did _ sound pretty impressive when Cleo said it like that, though, so he wasn’t too concerned about their opinions. 

“Mitch told us he could get us into the palace and to the king so that we could present him with time-sensitive information, and the group voted to use his plan rather than to try to set up a meeting _legally_. Mitch _did not_ , however, care to share any information on how he planned to do any of that, so we followed him blindly across the country by train and trusted _him_ even though _he_ didn’t feel like trusting _us_ —”

A hand laid on her leg from Hannah was enough to have her drop her menacing glare that had recently found its way back to Mitch. 

“Sorry. So, we made it to the Capital with only one brief stalking incident from the rebels, and Mitch got us into the palace and to the king,” Cleo gestured at Scott, “and all of you so we could share what we know. We don’t represent any of the other loyalist groups in other cities, but we can reach out to the loyalists back home to send their own representatives or information, if you’d like.” 

Scott nodded. “I appreciate anything you can tell me.”

Cleo looked back at Hannah, who pulled out her computer. “I have our list of rebels and all of the evidence that we have collected against them, here. It’s a rather long list, so I don’t know how you want to look at this…” She twisted it around so the room could see the long document of names and paragraphs written under each one.

Scott turned to Kevin. “I’d like to go through the list with you and Hannah, I think. Can we start that tomorrow, since it will take a while?” 

Hannah and Kevin nodded. 

“You said you had time-sensitive information for me?” Mitch could tell from Scott’s rigid posture that he was aware of the glance between Cleo and Darien. 

Mitch guessed it was probably them being glad that Hannah was the one talking right now, so  _ they _ wouldn’t have to be the ones to tell Scott about his parents. 

“While Cleo and Mitch were at the Manor, they heard gossip about the Duke and Duchess’s upcoming plans.”

Scott groaned and dropped his face into his free hand. The rest of the room reacted similarly. They’d clearly been waiting to hear those names, and they all knew just how  _ delightful _ dealing with them was. 

The loyalists looked confused and, to be honest, a little scared by the synchronized reaction. 

Esther was the one to try to explain quickly. “Long story short, Scott’s parents tried to kidnap and assassinate Mitch the week of Scott’s coronation because they were very opposed to Scott’s focus on helping the lower-city in the months leading up to his ascension, and they’ve been living in mock-exile ever since he was crowned.”

The loyalists looked like they were left with more questions than answers, and Mitch grinned at the shocked eyes that turned to him. He just shrugged and made a mental note to be  _ extra _ nice to Cleo. 

“What about my parents?” Scott looked as grumpy as Wyatt typically did. Mitch made another mental note to track down that cat and give him a nice cuddle soon. 

Darien sat forward. “The rebels started making preparations at the Manor to host the Duke and Duchess next week. We don’t know exactly when or for how long, but we think they’ll arrive in Alluvia in about a week—around next Friday or Saturday. There was discussion about them staying at the Manor in Presque right now, but we can’t confirm if that’s true or not. I couldn’t come up with any more information at the Manor than Mitch and Cleo had heard.”

Scott nodded. “ _ Great _ . It’s Friday today, right? Whatever, I don’t care—no one is in a good place to be making plans right now, least of all me. Kevin, Matt, Ryan, Ben—plan on having a  _ lot _ of coffee tomorrow. We’re gonna have a long day of planning ahead of us, and I want to come up with plans to arrest my parents first tomorrow before we tackle that list.” Scott turned back to the loyalists. “Am I correct in assuming that my parents are the ones leading this rebellion? We’ve just been guessing if they’re involved or not.”

They all nodded. “We haven’t heard or seen anything that would contradict that,” Darien said. 

“If that’s all for now,” Scott paused to check, giving the loyalists a chance to speak up, but they just nodded, “then we should all try to get some sleep. It sounds like this week’s gonna be reeeeeally fun for all of us.”

He was met with scoffs and several  _ “Yay” _ s and “I can’t  _ wait _ ”s. 

“Esther, can you help them make sure they have secure communication with the other loyalists tonight yet? As soon as we can get information from other cities too, the better.”

Everyone started unfolding their limbs out of their chairs. Scott slid himself out from under Mitch to shake the hands of the loyalists. Mitch took a moment to wrap his arms around Kirstie again and get another hug while he listened to Scott thank them again for their help and support. 

Kirstie twisted so she could sit up and stick her finger right in Mitch’s face. “I demand best friend time with you tomorrow. Scott doesn’t get to claim all of your free time now that you’re back.”

Mitch nodded and held up his pinky. “I promise I will set aside plenty of best friend time between petting Wyatt, catching up on all of the designs I need to finish and actually start, helping out around the palace with the rebels, having awesome reunion sex—”

Kirstie’s waiting pinky turned into a hand smushing his face and knocking him backwards on the couch. 

“Ew, you’re  _ nasty _ —”

Mitch had been consumed by giggles. There was no hope. 

Kirstie fake-gagged as she stood up. 

“See you tomorrow!” Mitch called after her retreating form, and she shot an exasperated look back at him, but blew a kiss before she followed Ben and Nicole out the door. 

Scott was still talking quietly with Hannah, but the only other people in the room were Mitch and Cleo, standing behind Hannah and waiting for her. Hannah’s computer was missing along with Darien and Esther already. Cleo walked over towards him, and he braced himself.

“You couldn’t have given us  _ any _ indication that you  _ know the king? _ ” She seemed more annoyed than pissed now. Mitch shrugged and stood. 

“I couldn’t risk word getting to the Duke and Duchess that I was the one they caught. I would’ve told  _ you _ , but I figured it would raise less questions while we were in Alluvia if no one knew than if  _ some _ people knew.” 

Cleo sighed. “I  _ suppose _ . You’re still a little bastard, though.”

Mitch grinned. “So I’ve been told. I think you would get along well with Kirstie and Avi.”

Cleo laughed and waved as she followed Hannah out the door. 

Scott turned to Mitch and grabbed his hands. “Just a warning, I’m going to be extremely clingy and non-apologetic about it for the next week or so.”

Mitch nodded. “Ditto. Can we like… lay around and do nothing for the next couple hours?”

“ _ Absolutely _ , yes.”


	21. XXI

This was one thing that Scott knew he’d never get sick of. 

They hadn’t quite stuck to the whole “doing nothing” plan, but this was close enough. Mitch was sprawled out underneath him, pinned to the bed by Scott’s body. Their clothes were… _somewhere_ around here, probably—he didn’t really care right now. He was _considerably_ more focused on soaking in the feeling of _Mitch_ after so long of worrying that he would never be able to again. They hadn’t escalated to _doing_ anything, just having short, whispered conversations between making out and reveling in each others’ presence.   
Mitch’s hand dragged down his side from where it had been clutching at his shoulder. _Oh_. Yeah okay, never mind—they _had_ escalated to doing something, then. 

Scott felt Mitch grin against his mouth at his little jump. He wasn’t  _ surprised. _ They’d both been half-hard for who knows how long, pressed against each other. The sudden hand on his dick just came out of nowhere, alright?

“Stop _ laughing  _ at me,” Scott nipped at Mitch’s lip. 

“I’m not laughing— _ yesss _ .”

He would say getting his own hand on  _ Mitch’s _ dick was a great way to get him to shut up, but it really wasn’t.

To be fair, he absolutely  _ lived _ for the sounds that Mitch made. He licked at Mitch’s neck, feeling the rumble of his low moans against his tongue, while they fought to create a rhythm that didn’t involve crashing their hands together. 

Scott drew back sharply when his wrist smacked into Mitch’s and throbbed in pain. 

“Yeah, this isn’t working.” He smiled apologetically at Mitch’s pout. “Chill, I didn’t say we should  _ stop _ or anything.”

Mitch pushed himself up on his elbows as Scott crawled off of him. “Wanna fuck in the shower?”

“Why in the  _ shower _ ?” Mitch was right here, naked, underneath him—and he wanted to go all the way over  _ there _ ?

“I’m a sucker for dripping wet Scott, and I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Scott grinned and let Mitch out from under him. “A  _ sucker _ , you say?”

He dodged the smack aimed towards his shoulder. 

“I will also add that we don’t have to worry about cleaning up if we do it in the shower.”

_ That _ was an excellent point. Scott followed Mitch into the bathroom—far enough back that he could see  _ dat ass _ , obviously, but still did his best to not let Mitch get out of his reach. 

He hung off of Mitch’s shoulders while he turned on the shower. 

“Hey Mitchyyyy?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you know—” Scott paused to press a kiss to Mitch’s neck, “—that I love you?”

“You’ve mentioned it a few times. I love you too, Scooter.” Mitch tilted his head back to give Scott more access to his neck. Mitch shivered when Scott kissed up his scar. 

It wasn’t until Scott had Mitch pressed against the wall of the shower, three fingers in his ass with his legs around Scott’s waist and whining for Scott to “ _fucking get_ _on with it already_ ” that he pulled his mouth away from Mitch’s neck. 

“Noooo, don’t  _ stop _ though—”

Scott lifted an eyebrow. “Well, dude, do you want me to fuck you or not?”

“Don’t ‘ _ dude’ _ me, we’re literally having sex right now.” 

Scott snickered as he shifted Mitch’s weight around to position him over his cock. “Right, right, sorry honey.”

Mitch opened his mouth to come back at him with some hilarious one-liner, Scott was sure, but he didn’t give him the chance. Scott bit his lip and did his best  _ not _ to focus on the feeling of sliding into Mitch, and instead on the image of Mitch dropping his head back against the wall and groaning. Mitch’s hands tightened around Scott’s shoulders, and Scott could feel the slight tremble in Mitch’s legs wrapped around him. 

“Give—give me a second,” Mitch gasped.

“Mhm. As long as you want. Just lemme know when you’re good.”

Scott leaned forward, trying not to move his hips, and resumed the gentle kisses on Mitch’s neck and jaw, and basically anywhere else he could reach. His heart felt like it was beating again for the first time in weeks. 

“Okay, I’m good, Scotty. Go for it.” 

Mitch sounded entirely too put together. Scott started slow, making sure that Mitch’s slight squirming wouldn’t dislodge Scott’s grip on him. He let his pace slowly pick up with Mitch’s breathy whimpers. Scott dropped his head into the crease of Mitch’s neck at the wave of giddiness to have him  _ back _ .  _ God _ , he was so—he was  _ everything _ . 

“Scott?” Mitch’s hand tapped at his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Oh, he  _ was _ sniffling, wasn’t he? 

“I’m fine. Just—I love you  _ so much, _ Mitchy.” Scott barely lifted his head to get the words past Mitch’s skin. 

Mitch didn’t say anything back, but he didn’t need to. Scott felt him drop his head onto Scott’s shoulder too, and the grip Mitch had on his shoulders turned into more of an embrace. 

Scott let himself really  _ feel _ the slick slide of their rhythm. This—this wasn’t going to last much longer. They were too addicted to each other, especially after the recent absence of Mitch in Scott’s life, and he knew the reverse was true for Mitch, too. 

Mitch was quivering slightly, head still pressed into the side of Scott’s neck, and Scott knew it either meant Mitch was crying softly or he was getting close. Probably both.  _ Scott _ was definitely doing both. 

The tension in his gut was tight enough that Scott knew he would come when Mitch did. He closed his eyes against Mitch’s neck and listened to the duet of their panting and Mitch’s soft gasps. He felt Mitch tense and he tightened his grip on him as he shivered once.

“ _ Scott _ —” Mitch barely got the word out against his neck. “Love— _ love you _ .”

And then Scott could feel Mitch shudder and spill against their stomachs. He groaned and pressed his forehead further into Mitch’s shoulder as he thrust one more time into the tightness and heat and followed Mitch off the edge. He couldn’t quite feel where his body ended and Mitch’s began as they clung to each other through their peaks. 

They rested there long after their hearts had returned to normal and their breathing had evened out. Scott helped Mitch get his legs back on the ground again eventually, and they shifted their embrace more under the warm water, letting it wash over them as they sniffled and refused to release each other. 

Yeah, Scott was  _ never _ going to get sick of this. 


	22. XXII

It really was bound to happen at some point—well, not this  _ specifically _ , but something like this for sure. It didn’t happen on the first night, or even the second, or the third. It was on the fourth night after Mitch got home that he was awoken by a smack straight to his face. 

“ _ Arghff— _ ” Mitch groaned and rolled away from the hand. 

He was mostly awake at that point, but he shook his head a little bit to clear that last bit of sleep and figure out  _ whyyy _ . A glance over at the bedside clock and the darkness behind the balcony doors to his right showed that it was still the middle of the night. 

The glance to his right  _ also _ showed him the furrowed face of the sleeping Scott and the hand still outstretched to where Mitch would usually be curled up into him. 

Mitch rubbed at his sore face for a minute, watching as Scott’s fingers twitched like they were looking for something, then switched to patting around with the whole hand. 

Before Mitch started shifting himself down to lay next to Scott again, Scott jolted awake like  _ he _ was the one who had just gotten slapped. 

Mitch froze, one hand still on his stinging cheek, at the frantic way that Scott pushed himself up while his eyes darted around the room for the three seconds it took for him to focus on Mitch.

They stared at each other for a few long heartbeats as Scott took a deep breath and Mitch scanned his face for any signs of pain or other problems that would have prompted such a harsh awakening. 

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“What’s wrong with  _ you _ ?”

They squinted at each other. With anyone else, that exchange would have been a joke or rude, but with the two of them, Mitch knew it was genuine concern.

Mitch decided to break the silence as they waited for each other to explain. “Um, I’m fine. Just got a—a bit of a wake up  _ bop _ .” He dropped his hand from his face and scooted down so he was laying down next to Scott, and pulled on Scott so he was lying down again too, noses almost brushing from how close they were.

Mitch knew exactly when Scott figured out what he was trying not to say, because his eyes widened slightly and then crunched down into an apologetic grimace. 

“I’m  _ so _ sorry—”

Mitch shook his head lightly to try to wave off Scott’s concern. “It’s fine. Besides, now we’re even for that time I kneed you in the balls.”

_ That _ incident, probably about a year and a half ago, was funny only when reflecting on it. Mitch had been jittery all day from an upcoming showcase at Lambert Studios and, in trying to sleep, had flailed and kicked out after one of those half-asleep falling dreams. Poor Scott had woken up  _ very _ quickly from Mitch’s knee making a surprise appearance in his  _ nether regions _ . 

Scott made a noise like he tried to laugh, but didn’t put quite enough effort into it. “If you say so.”

Mitch sighed, looking between the tired eyes a few inches from his own. He reached out and pulled Scott’s arm over him. “Was it a bad dream?” Mitch didn’t really know what  _ else _ it would be that had woken Scott up, but he could still be hopeful about Scott being able to rest peacefully—

“Yeah.”

Nevermind, then. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Mitch nodded, his nose brushing past Scott’s. “Do you think you can fall asleep again, or do you need something else, or…” He trailed off to let Scott think. Of course, Scott decided to talk anyway, though. 

“Do you… ever get nightmares? About like, either time you got kidnapped?”

Mitch raised his hand to Scott’s face so he could gently brush his thumb over his cheekbone. Hopefully it would seem comforting and encouraging to keep Scott talking. “Not often.”

“... _ How? _ ”

Mitch smiled sadly at the slightly desperate look in Scott’s eyes. “Whenever something is bothering me, I talk to you or Kirstie, or  _ someone _ about it. It always helps me calm down and ground myself in where I am  _ now _ rather than when I had no control.” Mitch pressed a light peck on the tip of Scott’s nose. “I have you and our friends to help me feel comfortable with being vulnerable.”

“Okay, so I’ll talk more and take time off.”

Mitch moved his thumb in slow circles. “We aren’t the same person, honey. What works to help me calm down isn’t necessarily going to help you, too. You’re welcome to try, though.”

Scott frowned, but tilted his head slightly into Mitch’s touch. “Why can’t there be an easy answer? I just want  _ one _ night when I don’t have to see you being dragged away because I wasn’t good enough or fast enough—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mitch pulled Scott’s head down so he could press a lingering kiss to his forehead while Scott took a deep breath. 

“I can’t decide if it’s worse watching you slump over on the palace steps after my father pulled the trigger, or watching you walk out the front door for the last time because you’ve had enough.”

“As long as I have a say in it, I’m  _ never _ leaving you again. And you  _ know _ it wasn’t your fault. Nothing that they’ve done to me is your fault, and I hold absolutely  _ nothing _ against you. I know you love me, and I know you trust me—so let me help you, okay? What can I do?”

Scott mumbled into Mitch’s collarbone. “Can you…”

“Whatever you want. Snack? Drink? Blowjob?”

“Can I be the little spoon?”

Mitch loosened his arms. “Of course.” 

Scott rolled over and snuggled back into his arms. Mitch rested his lips against the soft skin of Scott’s neck. He let Scott drift off as he hummed softly and traced his fingers over the lines of the ink flowers on Scott’s left shoulder that they both loved so much.

When Scott woke up, he could offer more advice or try to point him towards someone better suited. For now, he would just be the steady support that Scott needed. God  _ knows _ Scott was surely trying to deal with this all on his own to try to keep himself from  _ bothering  _ people, or something. Not anymore. 

Mitch wasn’t exactly  _ sad _ at learning about Scott’s nightmares and guilt—upset, sure. Absolutely devastated that Scott was trying to force himself to deal with it alone, of  _ course _ . But more than anything else, he was determined. 

Determined to not let Scott try to deal with it alone anymore. Scott was always there for him when he needed him, and even every single time he didn’t. Sooner or later, Mitch would get it through Scott’s head that he would always be there for  _ him _ , too.


	23. XXIII

“Is the king—I mean,  _ Scott _ still pissed?”

Mitch shrugged. “He’s fine. More... grumpy that he knows we were right and doesn’t want to admit it.”

It’s not  _ Mitch’s  _ fault that everyone agreed with him. It’s just that he  _ was _ right. Scott absolutely should  _ not _ be allowed to go along with the stealth force planning to arrest his parents, no matter  _ how _ much he wants to give them a piece of his mind.

“You sure about that? He seemed pretty determined to worm his way into that group, and  _ not _ very happy about you sitting on him.”

It may not have been the  _ best _ technique to keep Scott from sneaking out the door, but it had worked. Besides, he wasn’t the  _ only _ one who had sat on him. Kirstie had joined him, and Avi had nearly had to, too.

“He’s not  _ really _ mad. Just a bit salty, I promise. The grand total of couple-y fights is still at zero. Well, one if you count the ongoing pineapple pizza debate.”

Both halves of the stealth force, led by Kevin, had departed this morning to quickly make their way to Alluvia for the confrontation in two days, so there wasn’t much Scott could do about it now anyways.

Cleo looked like she was trying  _ really _ hard not to say something. Mitch let her struggle for a few long seconds before waving his hand to prompt her to speak.

“So you  _ are  _ actually a couple? Like, actually  _ engaged _ to the  _ king _ ? But I thought he was engaged to Kirstie—didn’t he propose like two years ago? Or was that faked or something? Or are all  _ three _ of you together? Am I even allowed to ask that? Sorry—I’ve kinda been dying to know.”

Mitch laughed and wiggled the new diamond ring on his left hand. “No, it’s just Scott and me. I almost forgot about the whole Kirstie and Scott thing. The media misinterpreted those pictures and made a big deal about them being  _ secretly engaged _ , but no, they were never together. Scott and I have been keeping it quiet for security purposes. He was all for trying to make my birthday a national holiday—that’s not a joke, Esther found the draft of the declaration he’d have to give—but Kevin talked some sense into him. Once Kevin pointed out that I wouldn’t need security on me to go work at Lambert Studios if the media didn’t know about me, Scott was all for keeping me to himself indefinitely. He claims now that if he tried to share me with the country, too many people would ‘fall in love immediately’ and I would forget about him. He’s  _ so _ ridiculous, sometimes.”

Cleo smirked. “Yeah, I’d say he doesn’t have to worry about that considering how you two look at each other.”

“What do you mean?” Mitch looks at Scott like a normal person, right?

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “If Kirstie isn’t teasing you about the heart-eyes already, then I’m not gonna start it.”

“What  _ heart-eyes _ —”

“So what happened to the old ring?”

Mitch narrowed his eyes at her. She looked way too pleased with herself for changing the topic. “Scott said he had ‘plans’ for it. No clue what that means, but he sounded pretty excited about his idea—whatever it was. It was never meant to be the  _ actual _ engagement ring.”

Cleo sighed and shook her head. “And I thought  _ I  _ lived an interesting, secretive life. What does that even  _ mean _ ?”

Mitch laughed. “When we were in Myrosias—we were on our way home when I got kidnapped on the train—there was a perimeter breach during the conference and Scott proposed so that I would be allowed to stay in the bunker with the fancy officials and him, instead of having to go to the staff bunker across the alcázar.”

“So he literally just proposed out of nowhere?”

“Yep. He said he’d been planning to already, but apparently he tossed his—ahem,  _ Kirstie and his _ plans out the window.”

“Woah.” Cleo looked a little stunned. “You two are  _ relationship goals _ .”

Mitch shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t  _ recommend _ people start relationships after one person’s parents try to assassinate the other person in an attempt to maintain control of a country, then inadvertently kidnap them again two years later in the middle of an underground civil war. But it’s working out for us pretty well, so maybe that  _ is  _ the secret.”

“Yeah, I don’t even know what to say to that.”

Mitch laughed. “My life is extremely crazy. Honestly, I think the sheer amount of insanity that I live with day to day has kind of numbed me from all of the extreme stuff I’ve run into. That’s probably the only reason that I’ve managed to get away with all of these life-or-death situations with just some delightful underlying anxiety, and no crippling PTSD or anything.” That didn’t seem to help Cleo’s expression at all. “So how’s palace life been for you, then?”

Cleo grinned. “Not bad. Nicole’s let me help her out a bunch. I’ve been down in the kitchens a lot, too. Avi said he’d teach me how to make a bunch of stuff and it’s actually been really fun! Beside that, I’ve just been hanging around and enjoying not being in captivity, ya know? Hannah’s been busy meeting with Scott all week to go over the list, and Darien keeps finding more problems with secure communication or whatever, so he keeps asking Esther to help him figure it out.”

“Hmm. Is it too early to come up with a ship name?” 

Cleo frowned. “For who? Esther and  _ Darien _ ? There’s no  _ way _ that’s gonna happen.”

“No,” Mitch grinned. “You and  _ Avi _ .”

“Bitch!”

Mitch snickered at her glare. 

“I am  _ asexual _ . Quit laughing, you aren’t  _ that _ funny.”

“ _ Scott _ thinks I’m funny.”

“Well of course he does. He’s literally head over heels for you. You could walk up to him and say ‘chicken fingers’ and he’d laugh and tell people about how creative and unique you are.”

Mitch smiled down at the ground.  _ He really would, wouldn’t he? _ “Please,  _ he’s  _ the genius, creative one.”

“Oh my  _ god _ .” Mitch could  _ hear _ the eye roll. 

“You and Kirstie are never allowed to hang out. I don’t think I could handle the amount of exasperation and sarcasm that I would be confronted with if the two of you ganged up on me.”

Cleo snorted. “Too late.”

Mitch groaned.


	24. XXIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may recall me mentioning at the beginning of this book that it was dark. This reminder is, of course, purely coincidental, but please proceed with caution anyways. Hypothetically, if things did get a bit dark, they would hypothetically lighten up again very soon (hehe...)
> 
> Love you all!!! Take care of yourselves ❤️

Mitch could tell how stressed Scott was just from how tightly he was holding Mitch’s hand. 

“It’s gonna be fine. Kevin will take care of everything. He’ll call you later and he’ll have them both safely in custody.”

Scott’s thumb was rubbing over the back of Mitch’s hand in what Mitch figured was a subconscious effort to calm him down. _Mitch_ was fine, though. Sure, he was on edge just like everyone else, but he wasn’t anywhere _near_ as anxious as Scott. 

_Scott_ was the one who’d spent all week trying to make every single detail of their plan to arrest his parents _perfect_ —while still going through the list of information from the Alluvian loyalists (and the info from other loyalists who’d started sending their own information) _and_ running the country like normal. Mitch had been able to convince Scott to let other people take over some of his normal job, like Esther cancelling meetings and Ryan and Ben taking care of the reporters doing their best to find time to interview him, but they could only do so much. Scott was sleeping a bit better than he had been a few days ago, but Mitch was sure that it was only because he was working himself to the point of exhaustion, not because he’d managed to make actual progress.

Now Mitch was just trying to get Scott to relax while the entire palace—well, the people who knew what was happening today—were on the edge of their seats waiting for news.

“ _Something_ ’s gonna go wrong. _Why_ are they even going to Alluvia in the first place? What if they don’t show up? What if they do but they don’t get them—”

“Scott, you literally could not have had better people going. You know that nobody on that team will let you down. They want everything taken care of, this all to be _over_ , just as much as you do.”

“I _know_. I just have this _really_ bad feeling. Like I should have asked one of them to stay back. I should’ve asked Matt—”

Mitch turned around and planted himself right in Scott’s path, stopping them right next to the tomatoes Avi spent so much time pruning and _mothering_. 

“You can bet on your own ass that you could’ve asked any one of them to stay and, short of an executive _order_ from you, they would have ignored you and gone anyways.”

“But Ryan—maybe if—”

“Nope.”

“If I got Kirstie to ask Ben—”

“Nope.”

“Kevin would listen to _Leigh_ —”

“Leigh would just go along.”

Scott frowned down at their joined hands. “Well, maybe if _you_ had asked them to stay, they would’ve listened.”

Mitch sighed. “Scott, are you _really_ still upset about that?”

“No.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow at the short answer. Scott seemed to realize his mistake and he cringed before glancing up at Mitch’s face. 

“I’m _not_. Everyone just—likes you more than me…”

Mitch glared at him and stepped in closer to Scott. “You’re kidding, right? Because that was hilarious. Like, the most _ridiculous_ thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you’ve said that blue and yellow make _purple_.”

Scott groaned. “Are you _ever_ gonna let that go?”

“Never.” Mitch pulled his hands out of Scott’s and gently cupped his face. “They didn’t agree with me because they _like me more_ , they were just trying to look out for you.”

“And obviously I don’t _blame_ them for liking you more, because why _shouldn’t_ they? You’re _gorgeous_ and creative and pretty and _so_ smart and sassy and _damn_ handsome and sneaky and—”

“Scott.” Mitch slid his hands over Scott’s mouth. “You’re doing that thing where you ignore me because you know I’m right again.”

Mitch could feel the puff of air under his hands, but pulled back sharply when he felt a tongue lick at his palm. “ _Ew_ , Scott that’s _gross_!”

Scott laughed and set his hands on Mitch’s waist. “So making out is okay, but me licking your hand is too much?”

Mitch nodded. “Absolutely. Nice try, changing the subject. I’m not letting this go. You know you have your own list of amazing qualities, right? Because you do. You’re literally the smartest person I know. You’re so compassionate. You somehow find it in you to care about _everyone_ , so _much_ , all the time—and it’s amazing.” 

Mitch was having a great time watching Scott’s shy smile grow. “When you start talking, everyone stops and listens. Not because you’re the king, not just out of respect, but because they _want_ to hear what you’re saying. You have such a way with words—especially when you actually _plan_ them,” Mitch giggled at Scott’s bashful eye roll.

“Everyone is _drawn_ to you.” There was a distant popping noise, and Mitch felt a pebble hit his right arm. He glanced behind him for Wyatt to see what he was up to. “Even that damn cat loves—” 

He was cut off sharply by Scott’s hand grabbing his wrist and dragging him at nearly a run over to the little grove of trees farther down the path. 

“What are—”

Scott pressed him up against one of the trees and planted himself in front of Mitch. His first thought was _ooh, make out time_ , but that train of thought ended abruptly when he saw Scott’s face. 

That was the _something’s wrong_ face. 

The last time he’d seen that face, Scott had announced that there was a secret rebellion. 

_Uh oh_. 

Scott was pulling a phone out of his pocket and talking into it rapidly, but Mitch couldn’t quite make out the words. Something about, _sounded distant_ , _check the rooftop_. Scott was trying to peer past the trees without moving from in front of Mitch, which would be funny if Mitch didn’t feel kinda weird. 

He tried to lift his arm to grab Scott and ask what was going on, but his arm didn’t move how he wanted it to. It felt kind of numb—no, not numb _, definitely_ not numb—ow, _burning ow ow Scott make it stop Scott_ —

Mitch felt himself lose balance distantly and pitch forwards toward the ground. He saw Scott look back at him and honestly, he was distracted from the burning in his shoulder by the utter panic and terror in Scott’s eyes as he dropped to his knees next to Mitch. 

Scott was saying something—was he talking to the phone or Mitch? 

“— _no, no_ — _you’re fucking kidding me, Cora_ — _fuck the shooter I don’t care get the medical staff fucking hurry_ , _don’t_ —”

There were hands on his upper arm— _ow Scott get your hands off that hurts_ —and Scott was saying something else, probably to him now—

“— _be fine, everything will be fine, just keep your eyes_ —”

Scott has nice eyes. They’re pretty. Blue. They match the sky in between the leaves above them. Pretty. Why are they getting darker? Maybe that’s just Mitch.

Pretty eyes—


	25. XXV

Scott was gonna quit. 

Quit what, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Whatever he needed to quit to  _ stop fucking getting Mitch hurt _ . Fuck, if Kevin didn’t arrest his  _ fucking _ parents, he was going to hunt them down himself. 

It felt like it took  _ years _ for the medical staff to get to the garden. Scott had been stuck kneeling over Mitch, hands squeezing the bloody fucking  _ hole in his arm _ for a  _ lifetime _ . 

Mitch had drifted between consciousness, one minute he was out cold and Scott was almost relieved that he wasn’t able to feel it, the next, he was giggling and choking about something  _ blue _ and Scott was trying to get him to  _ stop talking just breathe it’ll be okay  _ before his eyes would go glossy and blank again.

He was half-tempted to pinch himself to make sure he was actually awake and not just trapped in another nightmare concocted by the evils of his own imagination. He couldn’t make himself pull a hand away from Mitch though, and anyways. No sharp little pinch on his arm could possibly hurt more than  _ this.  _ Feeling the warm blood on his skin, sliding down his fingers and seeing the steady drip of it into the dirt. Knowing that this was because of his own  _ parents _ , that Mitch was in excruciating pain because of his own family. That—even if it’s just his arm—what if he only got Mitch back for a week before he—no. Absolutely not. 

_ Just stay calm and keep applying pressure, listen for more pops just in case, stay low to the ground, he’s still breathing fine, no don’t move, I’m sorry I’m so sorry I have to keep my hands here stop moving— _

Scott almost screamed when there were finally hands pushing him away—out of desperation or relief or terror or helplessness, he didn’t know. After that, it seemed like everything was playing at double speed except for him. He tried to ask the lady ushering him inside what they were doing with Mitch, but she just told him to stay inside and disappeared again. He remembered trying to follow wherever they were trying to take Mitch, but a hand was on his arm and there was a small face looking up at him and she was telling him to take a deep breath—that’s what  _ Mitch _ tells him to do when this happens—and so he listens and then her face comes in focus but  _ where did Mitch go where are they taking him will he be okay they all just disappeared so fast— _

“Honey, if you can calm down a bit, I’ll go find out where they’re taking him, alright?”

He nodded at Esther.  _ Yes, good, find Mitch _ . “I’m fine—I’m good.”

Esther was waving someone else over. “Leigh, Cleo—can you two get him to his quarters and make sure he washes his hands off and gets a different shirt on? He’s gonna try to pretend he’s fine so he can come sit in a hospital waiting room  _ somewhere _ , but I’ll send Avi up to talk some sense into him when I get the chance.”

“Sir—Scott, come on. You can’t do anything, anyways.”

_ Yeah, that’s the  _ issue  _ here. He’s the fucking _ king _ and he can’t even help Mitch now. _

He followed Cleo back to his room. Leigh was talking on the phone right next to him. Cleo was talking too, probably trying to sound reassuring, but he wasn’t really listening. Just nodding and “mhm”-ing every now and then, doing his absolute best to try to remember the things Mitch did to calm down without thinking too much about  _ Mitch’s blood everywhere _ . He could feel his hands shaking, but he didn’t dare look down at them until he stepped into his bathroom and turned on the tap. Then he did, and promptly turned to the toilet and threw up.


	26. XXVI

Mitch didn’t open his eyes when he woke up. He was content to sink into the soft bed sheets and pillows behind his back, and enjoy the nice quiet of the room and sweet smell of flowers. It was a lot nicer than the vague memories he had of yelling and beeping and bright lights and worried whispering and poking. He figured the quiet keyboard clicking from nearby was Scott. If he opened his eyes and it _wasn’t_ Scott though—if the door didn’t have a handle for shit’s sake—he was going to officially lose it.

Oh, and _there_ was the bubble of anxiety. Right on schedule.

Mitch cracked an eye open and breathed a sigh of relief when it was indeed Scott sitting in a chair right next to his bed. Hm. The bed in _Scott’s_ room. Not a hospital bed? Mitch glanced down at his arm, wrapped in gauze and pinned to him with a sling. That was new. The dull ache wasn’t nearly as bad as he remembered it being, though. Well, only one way to find out more.

“Told you I wouldn’t die on you.” Mitch would’ve laughed at Scott’s jump, but he was pretty sure that would hurt. “What did I miss?”

Scott closed his computer and set it on the edge of the bed so he could scoot forward in the chair he had dragged up there and give Mitch his full attention. “What do you remember?”

Mitch shrugged with his left shoulder. “I dunno, bits and pieces? Assume nothing.”

The edges of Scott’s mouth perked up. “Yeah, the nurses said that would probably happen. You were awake for a while, but loopy-Mitch didn’t seem like he was that aware of what was happening.”

“...which was?”

Scott grimaced. “Reparative surgery and stitches after a gunshot wound to your upper arm.”

Mitch scrunched up his face. “Ew. No thanks.”

Scott nodded. “My thoughts exactly. The doctors said the bullet went into your arm and fractured the bone—just missing your _brachial artery_ , I think it’s called, and giving them—and me— _quite_ a scare. So one chunk of the bullet stayed in your arm and the other went out the other side and grazed your chest. Your chest and arm got stitches, and the bone got two pins, I think.”

Mitch stared down at his arm. “Uh, _okay_ then. How long have I been out of it?”

“‘Bout two days. Nina and Cora—from Kevin’s specialized security team—apprehended the shooter and he’s already been tried and sentenced. Apparently, he got paid off by my fa—the Duke.”

Mitch perked up. “Did Kevin arrest them?”

Scott nodded, looking relieved at even just the memory. “At least _that_ went right. The Duke has already been tried and sentenced—he’s _never_ getting out of prison—but the Duchess is seeking partial immunity by offering to go to Myrosias and help President Jose stop _his_ rebellion. Either way, _we got them_.”

Mitch pumped his unrestrained arm and whooped. 

“Yeah, same. We’re figuring that the reason they were going to Alluvia in the first place was to be closer to the border because of their hit man in case something went wrong. They didn’t really say anything, other than to confirm that they _did_ hire the shooter, so we don’t know if he was supposed to aim for me, and then changed his mind or missed? Or if they were actually aiming for you and you just happened to get back to the palace in time, so they never knew they had kidnapped you and almost ruined their own plans.”

“Woulda been pretty funny if the hit man showed up and I just... _wasn’t here_.”

Scott laughed. “Yeah. Kevin already put out the warrants for the known rebels and Senators who we know were involved too, so the country’s at a bit of a stand-still right now. Oh, and Esther tried, but she couldn’t keep the media out, so now it’s everywhere and _kind of_ a shitshow. So far, everything’s going pretty good. A bunch of people have turned themselves in, and a bunch of people have been stopped at the border and arrested, too.”

Mitch held up his left hand. “Yeah, you’re gonna need to slow down for a second so I can process this.”

Scott chuckled and leaned back. “Take your time. I’m gonna send Sarah a note real quick—she’s the palace doctor—so she knows you’re awake, and functioning.”

Mitch nodded and looked around at the vases of flowers scattered around the room while the keyboard clicking resumed briefly.

“Candice sent a whole bunch of bouquets. She said if you try to go into the studio and work before you get a doctor’s note to prove that you’re allowed to do that, she’s going to burn all of your unfinished designs.”

Mitch grinned. “She’s awesome. Modernio literally just would have fired me.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Ew. I _don’t_ miss that place.”

Mitch prepared himself for politics-speech, a language that he was more fluent in since meeting Scott than he ever thought he’d be, but not nearly fluent enough for it to be effortless like it seemingly was for Scott. “So, if a bunch of Senators are being arrested or fleeing the country, how is… _anything_ working?”

“It’s basically just me right now. Executive orders and a lot of calls with specialist groups, talking one on one with governors, the works. The entire Senate is shut down until further notice because as it turns _out_ ,” Scott looked rightfully irritated, “a _considerable portion_ , and I mean, _over half_ of the Senate admitted to taking bribes from rebels. So they’ve all been declared unfit for representing the country and now we have to hold a shit-ton of elections to clean it out. It’s a mess, and I am _so_ glad that Lindsey and Lauren got here yesterday to help me sort it out.”

Mitch smiled and reached out with his good hand for Scott’s. “I’m proud of you for getting others to help you so you aren’t bearing all of that responsibility yourself.”

“Thank you. Actually, speaking of my own mental state of being,” Mitch nodded along cautiously and squeezed Scott’s fingers, “Esther, Avi, and Cleo talked me into seeing a therapist yesterday.”

Mitch could feel his face light up. Scott hadn’t been thrilled about the idea when Mitch had mentioned it a while ago so Mitch hadn’t pushed—but that was _really_ good news! Professional help could be _so much_ better for him than whatever Mitch could try to suggest.

“Really?”

“Yep.” Scott popped the “p” and smiled. “Cleo apparently mentioned to Esther how I fit the textbook definitions of ‘stressed’ and ‘overwhelmed’—not to mention, I keep getting thrown into situations where I have no control when I usually have too many responsibilities and expectations—and could really use some better coping methods than ignoring everything until I shut down.”

“And then Esther and Avi bullied you into going?”

“Nah. Cleo is literally studying psychology; I figure she knows what she’s talking about. They came up to me with a whole speech prepared, but Cleo was the one who sat me down and told me to stop being a dumbass and let people help me. And I decided to actually listen.”

“...So you’ll listen to _other_ people?” Mitch teased.

Scott groaned and seemed very glad to be interrupted by the knock at the door. A young woman wearing a white doctor’s coat let herself into the room at Scott’s call.

“Hi,” she offered him her left hand so he could actually shake it, “I’m Dr. Sarah Bishop.”

“Mitch Grassi, nice to meet you.”

“And you—again. I’m part of the medical staff here at the palace, and I’ve been helping with your recovery so far. High-Mitch was _quite_ the delight to work with the last few days.”

Mitch groaned at her smirk and Scott’s giggles, shifting slightly to offer her his arm and let her start undoing the sling and peeling back his bandages.

“Was I awful? I’m _so_ sorry for anything I said or did—”

“No, no!” She laughed brightly. “You were just fine— _really_ entertaining. You sat through your stitches without a peep, but when we pulled out the syringe to give you a tetanus shot, _that’s_ when you had an issue. You were fine with the idea of it, but absolutely did _not_ want it anywhere near you once you saw it. It took a minute to calm you down, but you let us give you the injection when we told you it was just a tattoo needle. Then you sat right back down and didn’t even flinch.”

Scott was still giggling— _painfully_ delighted at Mitch’s grimace, although he seemed to be struggling to look at Mitch’s face and _not_ his newly uncovered arm. Mitch was also trying to avoid looking down at it, but curiosity won out eventually. 

“That looks… not great.”

Sarah smiled up at him. “Actually, it looks pretty good to me. I don’t see any sign of infection, and your stitches look like they’ve started healing nicely. We’ll probably be able to take them out in—I’d say a week and a half. We’d like to get an x-ray of your arm again around then anyways, and if that’s alright with you, we could probably aim to do it all in one appointment.”

“If my arm cooperates, that would be great.”

“Excellent.” Sarah gently began wiping at the wounds with a spongy cloth she pulled out of her assortment of medical goods laid out on the bedside table. “Right now, you’re looking at a very fast recovery. A few weeks for the stitches in your arm to fully heal, and we’re predicting about four months or so to rebuild the muscles damaged by the bullet. The proximal humerus fracture will take longer to heal than the stitches—we’re looking at about seven weeks. The two pins that were fastened to the bone will help speed that process, and the fracture was clean enough that there shouldn’t be many, if any, complications to that.”

Mitch nodded. “That’s not too bad at all! The last time I got shot, my stitches got all messed up and it took at _least_ a full month just to get it to close.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?!” 

Mitch turned to see Scott’s horrified face, perched in shock on the edge of his chair.

“ _The_ _last time?!_ ”

Mitch tried not to chuckle while Sarah started applying some “antibiotic ointment, just hold still and let me know if it hurts”. 

“Honey, close your mouth. You’re gonna catch bugs like that.” Mitch grinned at him. “You know life on the seventh level wasn’t safe. Haven’t you seen the scar on my calf? It was just a graze, but it bled a ton. Kirstie did her best with the stitches, but I could only offer so much sewing advice while trying to hold my neck together.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open again. “I think I missed a _whole lot_ of your backstory. _Kirstie_ gave you stitches? _When?!_ ”

Mitch paused for a moment to watch how Sarah was applying the gauze bandages and wrapping up his arm again.

“The night I met Kirstie? When I tackled those guys behind the bar? I thought you asked her about what happened.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t say anything about _you_ , just that she, you know, got _stuck_ with them behind the bar and you helped scare them off, but— _what?_ ”

“One guy tried to shoot me, but he just grazed my leg. Another one tried to chop my head off or something, but his knife was a bit too dull to do much damage—other than tearing my skin open.” Mitch paused again to adjust his arm as Sarah redid the sling. “Kirstie decided she was going to help—because there was _no way_ either of us was interested in paying medical bills and she claimed that it was her responsibility to help since I’d helped _her_ —so she took me back to her apartment and I tried to talk her through how to sew, and she gave me stitches. And painkillers. And a long-lasting friendship, _awww_ ,” Mitch laughed.

  
“I don’t recommend stitches from someone without medical training,” Sarah leaned back from the straps of his re-done sling and started gathering up her goodies. “Although I am impressed with how well your neck healed from poorly done sutures.”

“Funnily enough, even though my neck healed faster, it’s the only scar that hurts sometimes. The one on my leg doesn’t bother me at all.”

The doctor nodded. “Bodies can be weird like that.”

Mitch thanked her and grinned as she reminded him of the ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s of his recovery before she left. “She’s nice.”

Scott was still blinking at him. Mitch let him stare for a few seconds, trying to decide if it was creepy or a loving concern. 

He yelped when Scott suddenly dove for the edge of the bedsheet and pulled it back to reveal Mitch’s sweatpants-clad legs, which he reached for and immediately started tugging on.

“What are you _doing_ —” Mitch batted at Scott with his one hand, managing to do nothing but slow down the process of his boxers being exposed at Scott’s irritated, “Where did they _hurt you_ —”

They both froze when the door flew open, and Kirstie shrieked in the doorway and covered her eyes. 

“ _Ew,_ oh my god, I’m _so sorry_ —”

“No! No, we’re not—” Scott jumped back from Mitch and held up his hands, trying to prove his innocence. 

Mitch just laughed as Kirstie eyed Scott warily and Scott frantically tried to explain that she did _not_ just walk in on her best friends trying to rip each others’ clothes off.

 _“It_ _wasn’t what it looked like_ —”


	27. XXVII

“Ow. Ow.  _ Ow _ — _ ” _

Scott glanced up from the paper he was scanning. “Why don’t you  _ stop _ if it hurts?”

“Because I want to finish this.”

Scott stifled a laugh at Mitch’s hunched position. He was trying to hand stitch two pieces of fabric together with his left hand and hold the fabric in place with one socked foot and his immobilized elbow.

“Couldn’t you just design stuff on paper? Instead of… that?”

Mitch glared at him. “I am so  _ sick _ of sketching. I have pages and pages and  _ pages _ of designs but nothing  _ done _ and I want to  _ make something _ .”

“But you’re hurting yourse—”

“ _ I don’t even care anymore the damn stitches are coming out tomorrow and then I can take the sling off for a little bit _ —”

Scott closed the laptop and set it to the side. Theresa, his new therapist, would be proud of him for taking a break anyways. “Mitchy,” he slid himself over to Mitch’s couch in the lounge. “How about we go get a snack or something? I bet Avi has some new dessert for you to try for him.”

“Not until I finish this seam.”

“Then here, let me be your other hand and—and foot.” Scott poked Mitch’s foot on the table, holding down one piece of fabric, and replaced it and Mitch’s elbow with his own hands. “Now you finish the side and we’ll go chill for a while.”

Mitch glanced up and Scott already knew what he was going to say. 

“ _ Netflix _ and chill?”

As much as Scott would love to… “No, Mitchy. You  _ know  _ Sarah said no strenuous activities. That would  _ definitely  _ count.”

Mitch groaned and turned back to his needle as he kept whining. “But Scotty…”

“Not until after the stitches are out.”

“But  _ Scotty! _ I will let you do  _ whatever _ you want to me. Anything at all.”

Scott did not  _ verbally _ react to that offer how he would have liked to, but that didn’t mean that his mind did not go immediately to the long,  _ long _ list of things that he would be  _ very _ happy to do for Mitch. “Mitch, you are making this  _ way _ more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

The cycle continued well after Mitch looped and knotted the end of the seam and they departed for the kitchen. In fact, it didn’t end until Mitch got his hands on the slice of cake that Avi pushed down the counter and over to him, and even then, it was only because of Avi’s questioning and Cleo’s humored glances as she grated cheese next to him.

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” As much as Scott teased Avi with dirty jokes, he didn’t really need to share—

“Scott won’t fuck me.”

“ _ Mitch! _ ”

Mitch just grinned evilly at him while Cleo snickered and Avi rolled his eyes and turned back to his potato peeling.

“Well, uh, wouldn’t that be a bad idea with your stitches?” Cleo looked like she was regretting saying anything.

“That’s what  _ I _ said—”

“That’s not the  _ point _ . It would be  _ fine _ . We can be careful.”

Avi sighed and refused to look back at either of them. “I can’t believe that I am being forced to say advise on this, but no sex until your stitches come out.”

“Avi, you’re a mean, mean man.”

“Avi, you are my  _ favorite _ person in the world.”

Cleo mumbled something about “never thought I’d know so much about the king’s sex life” while Avi grabbed the empty plate from Mitch and waved them towards the door. 

“Out. Shoo. No more sex talk in my good, pure kitchen.”

“It’s not  _ your _ kitchen, it’s  _ my  _ house—” Scott pointed out as Avi ignored him and shooed them further away.

“Out!”

The door swung shut behind them and Mitch turned to Scott. “Shall we roam the corridors aimlessly for a few minutes, then?”

“Yeah, sure.” Scott grabbed Mitch’s left hand. 

He really loved holding Mitch’s hand. It was the perfect size to fit in his grip, and he loved the casual sign of affection that was one of the first things they could do when they had first confessed their feelings. Scott also loved instigating their walks around the palace, not just because he got to hold Mitch’s hand the whole time, but also because he got to hear what Mitch was thinking about and take a break from being responsible for an entire country.

Hm, maybe he should have considered going to a therapist a lot sooner. Maybe he should’ve realized how good of an idea it would be after he put so much time and funding into making therapy more accessible for lower-city citizens two years ago.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Mitch bumped Scott gently with his good shoulder. 

“How much I love you.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m pretty sure you just said that so I wouldn’t think no one loves me.”

Scott frowned down at Mitch’s unconcerned face. “Why on  _ earth _ would you think that no one loves you?”

The corners of Mitch’s mouth twitched up. “Because Avi and Cleo sided with you instead of me, so obviously they like you more than me.”

When it clicked that Mitch was making fun of him, his jaw dropped and he gently shoved Mitch away. “You little bastard! You told Avi and Cleo about our sex life to prove a point?”

“Yep. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Scott scowled. Well,  _ yes,  _ it did—but he didn’t want to  _ admit _ that.

Mitch just laughed and pressed himself back into Scott’s side, grabbing his hand again. “Love you, Scotty.”

Scott stuck his tongue out at Mitch, but didn’t have it in him to not respond. “Love you too, Mitchy.”


	28. XXVIII

_ Wow _ . He should spend more time out here.

Scott sucked in a lungful of fresh air as he leaned against the railing of his balcony. He blinked in the morning sunlight, peering out between the dark clouds rolling in across the city. He could smell the sweet combination of the flowers in the garden down below him and the oncoming rain slowly inching closer. 

He smiled at the sound of the breeze rustling the curtains behind him on the door and his loose,  _ almost  _ see-through shirt. Mitch hadn’t actually  _ said _ anything about wearing it today, but his eyes had lingered on it while he had been digging through their closet this morning, and then immediately cut over to Scott’s chest. He had waited until after Mitch left to get dressed, and was possibly hoping that Mitch wouldn’t be too tired when he got back and saw the shirt. 

Scott felt a raindrop hit his face and slid back inside, leaving the doors open to listen to the patter of the gentle drizzle mixed with the soft piano music.

“He’s gonna throw a fit if his clothes get soaked.”

He snorted and glanced over to Kirstie, still holding the pedal down on the piano to let the sound linger in the room as her hands lifted off the keys. 

“I was gonna say there’s no way he could possibly have much more,” Scott waved to his open closet door, where he’d watched Mitch spend the last few days sorting through and trying to make more space in, “but it’s Mitch and I know better than that.”

Kirstie nodded. “Why do you think he brought Ryan  _ and _ Matt to help him carry the last of his stuff here?”

Scott’s eyes flicked over to the pile of boxes still sitting against the wall. “Well, he can have as many other rooms as he wants. There’s plenty of other closets he can fill up so we don’t end up suffocating in here.”

Kirstie laughed. “Most of his other stuff is just storage stuff, I think. The only times he really went to the apartment were when he needed to find his old clothes or find other sewing supplies. His room has pretty much turned into a guest room at this point.”

Ben had moved in with Kirstie while Mitch had been missing, so Scott wasn’t surprised that Mitch was moving the rest of his stuff out now. Mitch had claimed that he really only kept his stuff there anyways—he hadn’t  _ lived _ there since a few months before Scott had proposed. 

“Cool.”

Kirstie rolled her eyes and turned back to the piano to cover the keys. “I don’t even know why I bother.”

“I literally don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kirstie stood up and grabbed her jacket. “Have fun running the country. Don’t forget to take some breaks or about lunch tomorrow, or I  _ will _ shave off your non-existent eyebrows while you sleep.”

Scott laughed and plopped himself down on his couch, reaching for the folder of Senate records from the last two years and his computer. “I won’t, I promise! See you tomorrow, Kirstie.”  
“See ya, Scooter.” The door clicked shut behind her.

Alright, time to focus. 

Scott let the sound of the tapping rain on the balcony fill up the room along with his muttering as he shuffled through papers. 

While the Senate was temporarily shut down, Scott had the full authority to do whatever he wanted. Meaning, he was taking this opportunity to fix everything that his parents had fucked up on both him and the country. Lindsey and Lauren had both come to help him manage all of his work, which he was endlessly grateful for. They were splitting his normal, day to day tasks while  _ he _ worked to sort through the dozens and dozens of things the Senate had changed and put together orders to reverse them. 

At first he had been worried that he was acting like a dictator, but he had expressed his concerns to several people. Theresa—literally, he should have started going to a therapist  _ years _ ago—had very professionally helped him lay out the pros and cons of taking things into his own hands. Friendly Senators he had met with, people around the palace, and his sisters—not to mention the hundreds of letters and emails Esther had given him filled with pleas to fix things—had all supported his decision. Theresa had put it like this: when the cons are pissing off a bunch of people who committed treason and temporarily inconveniencing the country while switching back to old systems, but the  _ pros _ are doing things like raising the minimum wage back to where it had been a few months after his ascension, protecting the rights of disabled and trans workers, reestablishing a free meal program for poverty-stricken kids in school, raising restrictions on industrial waste for environmental protection, replacing the taxes on large companies and the top 1% of wealth holders rather than letting the poverty line rise, well. It wasn’t being a dictator, it was called being a humanitarian. 

Scott shuffled the papers into several stacks and cracked his knuckles. He had this down to a science at this point, after years and years and  _ years _ of having to read papers and figure out how to respond and react to them efficiently. 

_ One stack for human rights, one stack for environmental protection, one stack for money involved shit _ —

This list goes on and on. Papers were added to piles after Scott read through them carefully and picked out the important bits with highlighter (because it looks more productive, don’t judge). Once he had sorted through a full month’s worth of documents, he would wake up his computer and open the drafts of executive orders he had created previously. 

Cross-referencing papers and pulling up PDF files of old documents took some time, but it was worth it if he could get the wording to replicate the old legislation as best as possible. (He was also shamelessly using Thesaurus.com to make it fancier. He would be more embarrassed about that if he wasn’t aware that literally every Senator used it, too.) 

Watching the number of saved drafts slowly tick up as he worked his way through the piles was very satisfying. Eventually, his back started protesting his hunched position, and he decided to give himself a short break and stood up to stretch. Out of the concentrated work zone, Scott very quickly noticed that the wind and rain had picked up, and he should  _ really close those doors, oh no _ —

Yeah, he was gonna need to go find some towels. 

He almost went for those nice, new ones that Mitch had ordered a few days after he got home (he still didn’t understand why that had been a priority for Mitch, but he had said something about  _ needing to figure out what the fuss is all about _ ) but instead, Scott went down to the nearest cleaning closet to his quarters and dug some of  _ those _ towels out instead. 

He realized once he was kneeling on the now-dry floor with the doors closed, holding four sopping wet towels and trying to keep them from dripping anywhere other than a fifth towel he had laid underneath them, that he didn’t really know what to do now. 

He was just about to try setting the massive pile on his dry towel and moving it to the shower or something when someone knocked on the door. 

“Come in!”  _ Please don’t be Mitch getting here with all of his stuff right now _ —

“Hey, Scott, are you—uh, what are you  _ doing _ ?”

“Leigh! My hero!” Scott grinned and the confused woman in the doorway. “I may have possibly left the balcony doors open,” he nodded to the doors as if she couldn’t see them right in front of him, still rattling with the heavy sheets of rain thundering against them, “and I got a bit of a mess on my hands. Any chance you could help me carry these to the laundry room?”

She blinked at him for a second, still taking in the ridiculous scene. “Uh, yeah. I suppose I could do that.” 

Leigh had the  _ brilliant _ idea of getting a few more  _ dry _ towels to wrap the  _ wet _ towels in so they could carry them down to the laundry room without dripping them all the way through the halls. 

“You are a genius. An actual.  _ Genius _ .” Scott grinned and accepted her high-five as they walked back to his room. 

“Why, thank you. I do try.”

“Sorry for kinda springing that on you all of a sudden. What were you finding me for?” Scott smiled apologetically down at Leigh. 

“Oh no, it was fine. Esther was concerned if you had taken a break recently, but I would say yes. Yes you have.”

Scott smiled. “I have indeed. Was that all? Not to be rude, I mean, I just—I mean I have a lot to do, sorry, uh—” He cringed.

Leigh laughed and patted his arm. “Yes, that’s all. I just wanted to pop in and make sure you’re okay. I’ll let you get back to work. See you later, honey.”

“Bye, Leigh!” Scott waved as she walked away and let himself back into his room. 

_ Well that was a fun break.  _ Back to work he goes.  _ Maybe if I’m lucky _ , he thought to himself as he sat down and reached for the next month’s worth of papers,  _ I’ll make it to last November before Mitch gets home _ .


	29. XXIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a sad announcement: we are nearing the end of the book. I know, I know, I hate those words and I'm sorry, but I figured a warning ahead of time would be nicer than one day being like, SURPRISE, SORRY! 
> 
> I'm not planning another book in this AU, (which makes me sad), but I have a handful of leftover scenes and little drabble~style ideas that I couldn't make myself delete even after I cut them out. I'll probably end up posting them and maybe (???) adding to them after this book is finished, because I'm not quite evil enough not to share the stuff that's literally already written (and also this AU was really fun and I like it, deal with it and have content lol). 
> 
> This somehow ended up being 32 chapters long, (fun fact: the same as the first book even though it's technically only like half the length or something idk math im too queer for that)--so what I'm saying is there are three more chapters. 
> 
> This note ended up being longer than I meant it to lol, sorry! I'm done talking now! Go! Enjoy! BLM! Stay safe! Toodles!

“Your cat is dripping all over the throne room.”

Scott looked up at the waterlogged man standing in the doorway. “ _ My  _ cat?”

Mitch toed off his shoes and hung his jacket on the coat rack. “Well he sure as shit ain’t  _ my _ cat. I am  _ not _ cleaning that up.”

Scott smiled and turned back to the order he was typing up. “Dang it. And I was  _ just _ going to ask you to do that, how inconvenient.” 

“I thought sarcasm was  _ my _ trademark.” He could hear Mitch trudging past him, probably looking for a towel or a dry pair of clothes. Likely both.

_ Okay, so it was approved by Vanderblite on the 28th _ …

Scott directed his full focus back to the paper he was busy glaring at when Mitch had walked in. He’d gotten through refreshing his understanding of it and started typing up the draft of the order when he felt a weight rest on his leg. Mitch was curled up on the couch next to him, head resting on his thigh, with the TV turned on softly across from them. It was the comfortable position that they liked to assume when Scott was working late and Mitch didn’t want to disturb him.

Scott rested his hand in Mitch’s hair and let his fingers absent-mindedly toy with the short strands while he tried out different phrases under his breath. They sat like that quietly for probably about an hour, Scott figured, as he sorted through the last stack of papers he had set out. 

_There. Another month done._ _Only nine left to go and we’re all caught up_. 

He stuck the papers back in the folder and closed the laptop, turning his attention to the man still curled up on his leg. 

“So, how was your day?” Scott let his fingers restart in Mitch’s hair and got a deep sigh in response.

“Pretty good. Cleo and Hannah’s train left before it started raining, so we timed that just about perfectly.” 

Now that the rebellion was mostly quelled, Cleo had been anxious to get home to Alluvia to see her family and restart her studies at the university. Hannah had decided to go with her so she wouldn’t have to travel across the country alone, and she was planning on bringing two women named Kaedi and Kaylah—who had apparently reached out to loyalists in other cities and collected their information during the trip to the Capital—back with her soon. Darien had decided to stay for a while and continue to help in their absence. 

“I cried a little bit when Cleo left, but I made her promise to come visit when she gets the chance, or to tell  _ me _ to visit when she has a break. Can you help me loosen this? It’s kinda digging into my shoulder.” Mitch waved his chicken wing of an arm. 

“Yeah. You can keep talking, I’m listening.” Scott gently pulled at the sling straps. Mitch had gotten the go-ahead from Sarah yesterday to  _ carefully _ take the sling off occasionally, and he was  _ living _ for his short bursts of freedom. 

“Mm-kay. I kinda took over the room down the hall and dumped all my stuff in there. I think I’m gonna move more of my fancier clothes in there so they have room to breathe and not get squished and wrinkled. Don’t let me forget to go check on my stuff later, though. Some of the clothes on the top got a little wet, so I laid them out for now.”

Scott nodded and tugged on the strap of the sling. “Off?”

Mitch shifted so he could wiggle the strap over his head and elbow. He tossed it onto the coffee table and reached for Mitch’s shoulders to rub them gently, making sure to be careful around his neck scar in case it was sore. 

“You’re too good to me, Scotty.” Mitch’s eyes were closed and Scott could see the slight upturn of his lips. 

“You deserve the best.”

“I’ve clearly got it, then.” 

_ Well, clearly  _ not _ since it was  _ my _ parents who kidnapped you twice and fucking _ shot _ you _ —

“I can hear the self-deprecating thoughts from here.” Mitch’s eyes didn’t open, but Scott could imagine the glare he’d be getting well enough without having to see it.

“I didn’t—well—”

“Scott.” Scott bit his tongue. “I love you. And I don’t just mean I love our relationship or what I get out of this—I love  _ you _ . If this is about your parents,  _ please _ stop trying to shoulder the responsibility of their actions on top of  _ your _ responsibilities. Yes, they’re your family, but they aren’t  _ you  _ and  _ you  _ are the one I care about.”

“But they—”

“Literally don’t matter to me at all. Yeah, they’ve tried to fuck my life up a few times, but notice how I’m still here? Notice how I don’t put blame on you for what they’ve done? Notice how  _ you _ aren’t the one getting put in jail, because you  _ didn’t do anything _ .”

“But—”

“But but but but. We can go around in circles all day, Scott, but I’m not budging. I love you and I think you’re amazing and perfect and the best fucking person in the world and you can’t change my mind. Fight me on it if you must, but you’re gonna lose.”

Scott couldn’t form words, and instead was stuck just opening and closing his mouth.

“Scott. I love you so  _ fucking _ much it hurts sometimes—and when you blame yourself for everything and try to find reasons not to love yourself, that’s when it hurts the most. I literally cannot comprehend not loving you, and I hope with all of my heart that you can figure it out, too. I  _ know _ you know that nothing your parents have done to me  _ or _ the country is your fault. I demand to help you get your brain to accept that because you  _ deserve to be happy _ .”

Scott could only manage a whisper. “...I love you.”

Mitch smiled gently, eyes still closed. “I love you, too. I fully intend to force everyone in the palace to give you lots of hugs whenever they can so you can feel the love better. I can’t decide if the first thing  _ I’m _ doing when I get the all-clear for using this damn limb is squeeze you as tight as I can or pay you back for all these shoulder rubs.”

Scott smirked and tried not to laugh.

“With a  _ shoulder rub _ , you dirty-minded  _ child _ .” Mitch shifted like he was going to whack Scott, but thought better of disturbing his position and compromising the quality of his massage. 

“I didn’t  _ say _ anything. I’ll take whatever you give me.” Scott smirked. 

Mitch’s eyes cracked open and the heavy look that he gave Scott had his breath catching in his throat. 

“Oh, really?”

Scott swallowed thickly and nodded. 

Mitch grinned slowly and sat up. “Well, then. Do you have anywhere you need to be for the next hour or so?”

“No.”  _ That _ sounded a lot squeakier than he’d planned. Oh well. It was worth it to see Mitch’s eyes go all predatory like that. Besides,  _ this _ was definitely a way he could comfortably practice giving up control and responsibility.

“I suggest you grab the lube and lose the clothes.”

Scott soaked in the dark gaze for a few seconds before he jumped up and  _ did not run _ over to their bed on the other side of the room. He was struggling out of the loose shirt when he heard Mitch call over from where he was locking the door. 

“Leave the shirt on. Just the shirt.”

_ Fuck.  _ Yeah, he can do that.

Mitch’s clothes had disappeared somewhere between the steps up to the raised half of the room and the bed, but Scott was  _ not _ complaining as he sat tentatively. He glanced awkwardly at his hand holding the bottle of lube, half outstretched to Mitch sitting comfortably at the foot of the bed. 

“I think…” Mitch glanced down at his bad arm. “You do it.”

“You mean—”

Mitch grinned. “I’ll just sit here and watch  _ real _ patiently. I only have one arm to use, so I might as well not get my fingers all dirty.” 

Scott bit his lip and turned to lean back against the pillows. They did  _ not _ do this often, but dear God did that make it awesome when they  _ did _ . 

Mitch’s eyes dragged down him, and Scott shivered as they paused when he propped his knees up and reached a finger down. Scott tried to focus on Mitch’s slight smirk and not the feeling of his finger slowly pushing in. He was  _ way _ too sensitive to succumb to feeling everything just yet. 

“Scotty, why don’t you tell me about your day a little bit? You got to hear about mine, I want to hear about yours.”

Scott glared at the smug look of Mitch’s face and opened his mouth to argue, because Mitch knew  _ damn well _ he was not going to be very good at talking right now—but he closed his mouth again pretty quickly at the quirk of Mitch’s eyebrow. 

“Uh, yeah. Okay—okay, uh—”

“Words, Scotty.”

Scott added a second finger slowly and tried to take deep breaths around the unfamiliar feeling of stretching himself under Mitch’s lusty gaze. 

“I, uh, got through eight mo— _ months _ of um, stuff. Talked with Kirstie for a while. Rain got every _ where _ — _ shit _ —uh. Towels. Cleaned it up. Um.  _ Mitch _ —sorry.”

_ Stop thinking about his dick in you.  _ Talk _ for shit’s sake _ . Scott squeezed his eyes shut to try to concentrate better, but it didn’t help at all.

“I have a bunch of orders  _ hm _ ready. For soon. Could probably be do— _ ah _ —done in a day or two. Nine months left— _ Mitch _ —”

“One more finger, Scotty.”

He complied and immediately whimpered at the slight burn and fucking  _ anticipation _ .

“ _ Fuck _ , Mi— _ Mitch _ , how do you  _ do  _ this all the time and  _ talk _ while— _ ah _ —I’m doing this?”

“A whole lot of practice. How did the rain get everywhere?”

Scott peeked an eye open at the rough sound of Mitch’s voice and choked on a gasp. Mitch was still staring at his fingers working at his ass, but he was also slowly running his usable hand over his own cock.  _ Shit _ , that looks  _ good _ —

“Um, left the doors open. Wasn’t paying attention to—to it. Took a break and water was all over. Leigh helped me— _ fuck _ —clean it up.”

“Mhm. You ready?”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Scott’s fingers were already pulling out and reaching for the lube again as Mitch shifted closer. 

Scott could feel his heart pounding as he reached out his slippery hand for Mitch’s dick and gently dragged his hand across his skin. He almost let himself get lost in the feeling of running his hand over  _ Mitch _ , but how could he possibly forget his excitement to get to the  _ good stuff _ .

Mitch shifted closer and let Scott guide his cock to his hole, pressing in slowly at Scott’s pull on his hip with one hand. Mitch’s bad arm was resting against Scott’s propped up leg, fingers tangled easily in the hem of Scott’s shirt as he let Scott have control of his movement. 

When Mitch’s hips were resting against the back of Scott’s thighs, he tightened his grip on Mitch to give himself a chance to adjust and soak in the sensation of being surrounded by Mitch’s arms and surrounding his dick. 

“ _ Oh my god _ , Mitch.” 

“ _ Mhm _ —”

Mitch didn’t look like he was much more put together than Scott, with his eyes pinched shut and grip on Scott’s shirt and knee firm.

“Start slow—” Scott was cut off by a groan when Mitch complied and started rocking his hips gently.

“ _ Shit _ —holy… fuck, Scott, I love you—we gotta do this more often,” Mitch’s pace was slowly picking up. 

“ _ Hell  _ yes—” Scott sucked in a breath and tried to rock his shaky hips up to meet Mitch’s thrusts. 

With Scott suddenly trying to do more of the work, Mitch’s demeanor shifted back to the more controlling attitude that he had before. Mitch’s good hand curled around Scott’s waist and pushed him down into the mattress harder, so he was forced to stop rolling his hips up and instead, lay there and take the harder thrusts making up for it. Scott bit his lip again and tried to fight the urge to curl off the bed and arch into Mitch’s touch, not wanting to ruin the perfect feeling of being stretched and pinned down and  _ owned _ . 

“Fuck, Scotty, you look so good writhing under me.  _ God _ , I can see your flower sleeve through the shirt—it is  _ doing things  _ for me, you have no idea. So fucking hot—I love you so much—”

Scott whimpered and tossed his head back against the pillows. His hips tried to betray him and buck up towards Mitch again as his words curled low in Scott’s gut. Mitch slid his bad hand forward, bunching the shirt up and out of his way, to spread his fingers across Scott’s abs.

“Getting close already, huh Scotty?”

_ Yeah, no shit.  _ Scott’s thighs were trembling slightly—Mitch could probably feel it in his abs too—and his breathing was hitched enough that each little whimper at Mitch’s words felt like a punch to his gut. 

“Not yet, Scotty. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Scott clung on to the bedsheets and tried not to beg. He wasn’t  _ that _ desperate—

The fingers spread over Scott’s abs disappeared and Scott gasped when they traced lightly up his cock. 

“Mitchy—Mitchy  _ please please  _ I wanna—”

“Nope.” Mitch’s hips slowed enough that Scott was crying out at the loss of the building heat in him, then at the loss of Mitch’s touch when he pulled all the way out. “Flip over to your hands and knees.”

Scott scrambled to force his shaky limbs into submission and get himself situated as fast as possible. 

“Please, Mitchy—”

“Mhm. Patience—”

“ _ Yesss, _ ” Scott hissed over Mitch’s words as he filled him again in one long thrust. “Oh,  _ fuck _ . Right there, Mitch, I love you—”

“There?” Fuck, he could  _ hear  _ the smug smile in Mitch’s voice as he thrust right back into that glorious spot. 

Scott dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut to better focus on the slick pressure and heat, contrasting so well against the tickle of the thin fabric of his shirt. Mitch’s words and groans flitted through his awareness as he felt the hand bunched in the shirt back tighten along with the feeling building once again in his gut.

“I’m pretty close, Scotty, but I want you to come first.”

_ Oh, fuck.  _

The hand bunched in his shirt was enough of a reminder not to fight Mitch’s rhythm that he almost didn’t notice when Mitch’s other hand left his hip. He  _ did _ notice, however, Mitch’s hand reaching around him and curling around his dick. 

“ _ Mitch _ —”

“Come on, Scotty. You worked so  _ hard _ today; you deserve it. I want you to feel so good, I love you so much— _ that’s it _ .”

_ “Fuck! _ ” Scott clenched his eyes and his fists as the wave crashed over him, nearly knocking him down into the mattress as Mitch kept rolling his hips into him.  _ Holy. Shit. _ Mitch’s thrusts slowed down gently as Scott trembled and gasped. 

He whined when Mitch pulled out. “What—”

“I’m gonna come on your back, Scotty. Gonna dirty up this perfect picture you make.”

_ Holy fucking shit, Mitch _ .

Scott could hear Mitch’s ragged breathing and he bit his lip and arched his back slightly when he heard the “ _ Scott _ —” accompanying the first streak land across the thin fabric. 

“Oh my god.” Mitch’s hand rested lightly on Scott’s hip to keep him from pulling away and collapsing into the bed. Scott twisted his neck to grin lazily back at him, and was very pleased with the slightly stunned look on Mitch’s face. “You look  _ so _ fucking good. Fuck, I’m gonna draw this later,” he waved vaguely at Scott’s back. “I’m not even embarrassed about it, because  _ oh my god _ .”

Scott let him soak in the image for a few more seconds before Mitch crawled up to flop down next to him. He used the already dirty shirt to wipe off the last of their cum streaking his chest and back and tossed it on the floor near where he assumed his pile of clothes to be. 

“I feel like my brain isn’t quite working yet.” Scott tucked himself into Mitch’s side, dropping an arm heavily across Mitch’s chest. 

“Same. I vote for lying here and thinking about how much I love you for a while.”

“Deal. I love you, Mitch.”

“Love you, Scott.”

Scott grinned into Mitch’s shoulder and closed his eyes.


	30. XXX

His arm was kinda sore. Heh, that makes it sound like he was  _ doing something _ . Nah, Mitch was just slightly achy because of the  _ physical therapy session _ he’d just had with Sarah. He was stuck back in the sling for now, considering how he’d just stretched his arm and done some light weight lifting exercises, but he wasn’t  _ too _ disappointed about it. He could always ask Scott for another shoulder massage without seeming  _ too _ needy for Scott’s attention if he was wearing the sling.

Oh, please. As if Scott didn’t know how clingy Mitch could be.

As if  _ Scott _ wasn’t clingy, too.

They were currently sitting at a high table on the balcony outside the ballroom, eating dinner. Scott had proudly declared that he had—with Avi’s help and supervision—made their meal: a chicken piccata pasta that had Mitch groaning and giving an enthusiastic thumbs up at the first bite. 

Scott had claimed that the romantic dinner was to celebrate how much he loved Mitch and was thankful for his help and support while he had been writing the billion-and-a-half executive orders, which he had  _ finally _ signed into effect earlier that day. But Mitch did his best to match every compliment Scott gave him with one of his own. It took a minute, but the shy smile and slight blush were exactly what Mitch was hoping for. 

Mitch was waiting to see which one of them caved and blew out the tall candle in the middle of the little table. He could tell Scott had thought of it too, because both of them kept occasionally glancing at it, then smirking slightly and glancing at the other to make sure they hadn’t been caught. 

Mitch was kinda disappointed that he couldn’t hold Scott’s hand across the table between bites with his arm in a sling, but they made up for it by having their ankles hooked together under the table. 

Kirstie would definitely be fake-gagging over how adorable they were if she was here. But she wasn’t here, because this was their special dinner, just for the two of them. 

“Hey Scott, Mitch—do you have a second?”

Mitch chuckled and turned towards Esther, standing in the doorway with a tablet.  _ Duty calls. _

“Oh, sorry. Do you want me to come back later?”

Scott waved off her concern. “No, it’s okay. What’s up?”

Esther stepped closer to the table and tapped the screen of her tablet so it wouldn’t turn off. “You wanted to know about how people were taking all of the orders—”

Scott perked up and Mitch grinned at his hopeful expression. “Is it going well?”

“Well, yes...” Esther hesitated and Mitch watched as a cautious, pale eyebrow rose. 

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?” Mitch asked. 

Esther bit her lip and tried not to smile. “I guess? Okay, so—it’s going fine. Conservative assholes are whining about it, but almost everything else I’ve heard from the country has been good. People are happy that things are going back to how they were. Scott, you have several thousand thank you emails already.”

“...do you want me to go through them right now?”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m going for, I promise.”

Mitch was slightly concerned by the apologetic glance Esther threw his way. 

“So then what’s the issue?” Scott looked nervous.

Esther started talking really fast. “Okay, so you know how we never addressed those rumors about you proposing to Kirstie like two years ago? Apparently people took that really seriously and, um, well—someone from the hospital is getting fired, ‘cause someone broke patient confidentiality and may have started a bit of a  _ discussion _ amongst the public—”

“Esther. What. Happened?” Mitch cut in. 

“They think that Scott is cheating on Kirstie with Mitch and everyone is fighting over who the king is actually engaged to—”

Scott was laughing across the table, but Mitch was frozen, staring at Esther in shock. 

“ _ What?” _

Esther held out the tablet to show him an article titled, “Mitchell or Kirstin? What Has the King Been Hiding?”

Esther was trying to explain the absolute  _ showdown _ that was the country taking sides over who Scott was with, but Mitch wasn’t really listening as he scrolled down the article quickly and flipped through the other open tabs with similar titles.

“—Starbucks is already trying to capitalize on it with signature drinks for Mitch and Kirstie. Apparently it’s like a nation-wide poll to see who’s more popular, aka sells more—”

Scott probably couldn’t even hear Esther over his laughter and tears. 

“—and I mean, it’s  _ completely _ up to you guys, but I would really suggest announcing something before people trying to stalk Mitch or Kirstie or something—”

Mitch’s mouth was hanging open at her while Scott seemed  _ entirely _ unconcerned as he wiped tears off his face and caught his breath. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about it, Esther.  _ Thank you _ for that, oh my god.” 

Mitch was still staring open-mouthed at Scott and Esther as she apologetically patted his cheek and left them to their dinner.

Scott turned his elated grin to Mitch. “Well I suppose if we plan on getting married, we have to actually announce our engagement at some point or no one will show up.”

“We—they—married soon?”

Scott’s crinkly eyes were making a grand re-entrance. Oh, Mitch had missed that sight  _ so much.  _

“Yes,  _ married soon _ . What did you  _ think _ you were agreeing to when I proposed?”

Mitch stared down at his ring. They hadn’t discussed any plans for _ actually _ getting married. The concept of marriage was still just that: a distant,  _ really _ nice concept. “I wanna get married. Holy shit—we’re gonna tell people and then get married. For real. We’re—we’re  _ actually doing this now _ . Oh my god, Scott!”

Okay, when Cleo had mentioned the heart-eyes thing, Mitch hadn’t known what she was talking about. Now, drowning in the blue of Scott’s excitement, he knew exactly what she had meant.

“How about we figure out the details of announcing it tomorrow, and just enjoy tonight? You look like you need to process a bit before your head explodes.”

Mitch was trying to blink back tears. “O—okay. Oh my god, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mitch.”

Scott slid his seat over so he was sitting right next to Mitch instead of across the table, food practically forgotten. His hand came up to cup Mitch’s jaw and pull him into a soft kiss, really just them breathing each other’s air and gently leaning into the embrace. 

Scott pulled back just enough so Mitch could blink his eyes open and press his forehead against Scott’s. 

“My father is gonna be  _ so _ pissed when he finds out.”

Mitch clung to Scott as best he could with his free hand and tried not to fall off his chair with laughter as the tears spilled down their faces. 


	31. XXXI

“Scott? What’s up? Do you wanna stop?”

Scott blinked down at Mitch. Woah, he hadn’t meant to zone out, especially not right  _ now _ . Oops. 

“Uh, no. No, sorry. I just, uh, I had a question?”

He could see Mitch relax a little from how he’d tensed up in concern. “Hmm?”

Scott cringed. This was definitely going to ruin the mood. He gestured vaguely towards Mitch’s left arm, raised above his head, tied with a strip of cloth to a bedpost. With his right arm trapped in his sling, Mitch was completely vulnerable to anything Scott did. (Mostly licking his way up the bare skin revealed by Mitch’s unbuttoned flannel and leaving hickies along his bare thighs and hips to hear Mitch’s garbled begging.)

“Can you just… explain how you’re okay with this? I’m sorry, I just got kinda nervous for a second—”

“No no no, it’s fine.” How did Mitch look so sincere and calm when literally seconds ago he was tugging on his restraint and squirming around? 

Scott shifted so he was sitting between Mitch’s legs and could run his fingers over Mitch’s tattoos and smooth skin while he talked. 

“Put yourself in my place, Scotty. Would you let me tie you up if I asked? Would you trust me to do it if you asked?”

Scott nodded. Of course he would. He loved Mitch, knew he was safe with Mitch. Mitch would never do something he knew Scott wouldn’t like, and if Scott told him to stop, he would. Mitch wouldn’t hurt him.

“I trust you to do this with me. I trust that you’ll pay attention to me and you won’t try to do something that we didn’t agree was okay. You would trust  _ me _ not to do something  _ I  _ was uncomfortable with to  _ you _ . Even if you wanted to try something else, you would ask me first. You’d check in on me, like right now. There’s a reason we talked about this before we did it,” Mitch nodded to his trapped arms. 

Scott felt a little calmer as he dragged his hand down the curve of Mitch’s ribs, noting the slight shiver. 

“Even though I’m not the one in control here, I’m not worried whatsoever about it when  _ you’re  _ the one in charge. Especially because I know I technically  _ do _ have control. Even though I’m not  _ using _ it.”

Scott paused his fingers and glanced up at Mitch, still watching him calmly. “Thanks for explaining that all. I suppose I knew that logically, but I needed to hear you say it, I think. Sorry I ruined the mood, though.” Scott chuckled lightly. 

“Don’t be. Consent is sexy and you have every right to take care of yourself as much as you do for me. That’s why I asked if you wanted to stop in the first place. Besides,” Mitch grinned, “we can do this whenever we want,  _ fiancé. _ ”

Scott felt his face brighten, and watched as Mitch’s lit up consequently. Scott had taken half the day off, which they’d spent curled into each other on the floor of the tower balcony talking about the future. 

Mitch—perfect, beautiful,  _ wonderful _ Mitch—had listened to all of Scott’s concerns and helped ease his worry. Mitch had looked him dead in the eye and reminded him that he loved him, didn’t ever  _ not _ want him around, didn’t care that Scott’s job was so time consuming, etc. Of course, Scott had started crying and hugging Mitch when he pinky promised him that he would remind Scott of this whenever he needed until he didn’t need reminders anymore. Mitch just laughed and started rubbing his back when he had choked out, “You’re marrying an absolute  _ mess _ .” Mitch had pressed a kiss to the side of Scott’s head and whispered, “But you’re gonna be  _ my  _ mess.”

Scott curled himself over Mitch and placed one hand on his jaw to pull his head up gently into a very  _ not _ gentle kiss. Mitch seemed very into that plan, arching his back to press into Scott and straining against his restricted arms. Scott pulled back just enough to look Mitch in the eye and tap his fingers lightly on his arm. Mitch nodded lightly and Scott reached up to undo the knot. 

Scott leaned back to give Mitch some room to get up and shake his arm out. He found Mitch’s underwear laying on the floor and tossed it to him, managing to smack him right in the face. Scott snickered at Mitch’s heavy sigh as he muttered something about Scott’s maturity, or lack thereof. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Scott contented himself with watching Mitch slowly button up his shirt one-handed (he had recently insisted that he was very good at it now and did _not_ need help, thank you very much). “Nah. You got something in mind?”  
“Let’s see if Kirstie’s busy and have a wine night. For old times’ sake.”

Scott leaned forward to peck Mitch on the nose. “That sounds awesome. We should bring back hanging out on the weekends.”

Mitch swung his legs off the side of the bed and started towards the closet. “Hell yes. I demand it. Oh, if we go to Kirstie’s tonight, we gotta stop at Starbucks first.”

Scott furrowed his brow as he sat back and watched Mitch steal a pair of his pants and start rolling up the ankles in a way that  _ no one _ pulled off as good as him. “Why?”

Mitch grinned at him. “We gotta find out if my signature drink is better than Kirstie’s.”


	32. XXXII

Mitch let out a deep breath and sunk further back into the arms encircling him. He closed his eyes and let his head tilt back against Scott’s shoulder. He didn’t need to watch this sunset. There were so many other ways he could enjoy it. 

He could feel the cool metal on Scott’s finger underneath his own hand, from where his arms rested against Scott’s, holding them to his chest. His finger was cool too, from his own ring. 

Scott had been so excited when he had showed it to him for the first time. Two bands of silvery meteorite on the edges encased a band of copper. Copper from the wire ring that Scott had used to propose with, and meteorite to remind him of the moon. It wasn’t the giant diamond Mitch had always thought about—it was  _ so _ much better. 

He’d had his fun with the huge, shiny engagement ring for several months. While he was still in the sling and barred access from the studio to heal properly, the flashy ring had been gorgeous and flattering.  _ This _ ring, the one Scott had put so much thought and care into, was one that Mitch would never have to take off for fear of ruining a piece of fabric. No dainty lace or thin velvet could be torn by this ring. This ring was—well, Mitch would say “perfect”, but a better, more meaningful descriptive phrase would be “a material manifestation of their love”. Although, it was incomplete without its counterpart on Scott’s hand. 

Once Scott had nervously proposed his idea of matching rings, Mitch had immediately dumped his other ideas. Scott’s ring wasn’t  _ matching _ , per se, but it followed the same format as Mitch’s. Two bands of meteorite—same as Mitch’s—but instead of a copper band in the middle, Scott had a band of obsidian. 

Scott, an absolute wet dream for a sappy poet, in Mitch’s words, had been laying nose to nose with him in their bed, (still naked and sweaty and  _ beaming _ at each other), illustrating with his linguistic genius born from a lifetime of high vocabulary and a professional atmosphere, his appreciation for Mitch’s eyes. He had compared the drowning feeling of getting lost in Mitch’s pupils to the obsidian night from when they first kissed on the tower balcony, and Mitch had grabbed him and whispered, “ _ That’s it. Obsidian. _ ” Scott hadn’t even waited till morning to call the jeweler.

Now, standing on a different balcony in a distant city, still riding the adrenaline and excitement of the day, Mitch could imagine the sky slowly darkening from the bright, rich oranges and reds back to that same obsidian. 

A gentle breeze ruffled Mitch’s hair, bringing with it the soft laughter and chatter from farther down the lakeside. They would have to return to the reception at some point before Avi, ever the master of teasing, started spreading rumors about what they might be up to.

They would get up to that  _ later _ , not while Mitch still needed to be able to stand up long enough to actually have their first dance. Ooh, and eat the cake. All in good time. 

Mitch could feel the faint, steady  _ thump, thump _ of Scott’s heart through their suits, and the slight sway as they leaned against each other. He could taste the lingering flavor of the champagne he had sipped at before they had snuck off. He could smell the fresh air off the lake and the woody scent of the trees surrounding the estate, protecting them from the rest of the world, narrowing the world down to just them. He could hear Scott’s soft breathing against his own breaths, hear the fabric rustling between them. He could imagine the glow of Scott’s face in the golden light, the shimmer of the light caught in his hair, his eyes. 

Mitch opened his eyes to take in all the majesty of Scott watching the sun sink down. He was met with two crinkly, blue eyes gazing softly back into his own. 

Mitch smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends.   
> At some point soon (hehehehehehe) I'll share the extra deleted stuff because you guys are awesome and I love you all!!! Seriously, I cannot express how much you guys reading my stuff and taking the time to say hi or something means to me!! ❤️❤️❤️   
> This has been so much fun and I credit at least half of the fun to you guys being so sweet or encouraging or just being THERE--literally, I am struggling to say my actual points here because I just want to give you guys virtual hugs. I promise I will be back at some point with a new story (but it may take a while to get anything to my perfectionistic standards due to the amaaaazing obligations I have to the Great American Education System.)   
> Stay safe out there! Stay healthy! Keep fighting! BLM! Black Trans Lives Matter! Love you all!!!!! 🥰


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